


Pirate Radio (e/R)

by im_not_anna



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Asexual Enjolras, M/M, Pirates, Radio, Sailing, pirate radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 38,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_not_anna/pseuds/im_not_anna
Summary: After the completely crap year that was 2016 a few things go down the drain, including most of the worlds governments apparently. This starts a chain reaction that somehow leads to the activist group of friends that call themselves the ABC living on two sailing yachts off the coast of southern France, broadcasting Pirate Radio and Grantaire is not pleased about captaining one of the boats, about sharing quarters with Enjolras, about any of.





	1. The Meeting

There had been hypothetical talk about it for weeks, if not months but Grantaire never actually expected the day to come.

"You can't be serious?" He snorted, almost amused. Enjolras had plenty of preposterous ideas over the years, but this one took the cake. "Pirate radio? What is this? The 60's?"

"We wouldn't only be broadcasting our-"

"That's right. You also want to personally attack whalers. Not even you, Apollo, can take on men armed with harpoons and expect to get away with it." Grantaire hissed at Enjolras who was glaring at him with the same irritated expression he usually wore when dealing with the Grantaire.

A silence filled the room, an unusual silence since Grantaire's words where almost always met with either a counterargument or a plea for him to leave the room before his face became the target of fist moving at high speeds.

It almost made him so uncomfortable that no one spoke for as long as they did and he'd seriously contemplated leaving by the time Combeferre said: "We don't want to do this, R. We really don't. But something came up and-"

"What?"

"Pardon?"Combeferre's ability to stay calm whenever Grantaire was being a nuisance was more then a little bit impressive. The rest of the ABC put up with Grantaire because they actually liked him. He was friends with Eponine, Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel and even Jehan before any of then knew Enjolras, and everyone else took to him rather quickly, even seeing him as there go to drinking buddy. Mainly because he was always drinking.

Combeferre and Enjolras where the only two that didn't talk to him outside of meetings in which all Grantaire ever did was be a deliberate menace in an attempt to get Enjolras' attention, as petty as that may sound.

He does argue for more reasons then just that. The week previous when he told Enjolras that there protest against the banning of gay marriage was pointless and that humanity had reached it's peek and was exponentially working it's way back into the middle ages, he had meant every words.

Things like that weren't just for the sake of making his presence aware to Enjolras. The 'I told you so' when they got themselves thrown in a cell at the protest, however, was.

Grantaire's efforts where hardly ever in vain as Enjolras yelled at him, called him names, kicked him out and glared. There was an awful lot of glaring.

Combeferre however was always there to put a hand on Enjolras' shoulder and whisper "Leave it." or "We have more important things to worry about." Which Grantaire had to give him credit for. No one should be allowed to have that little of a temper. It just wasn't fair to the rest of the world.

 

"What came up?" Grantaire asked again, taking a swing from the wine bottle in front of him. He could have poured himself a glass but then he wouldn't have had the pleasure of Enjolras' disapproving look.

"Our lease's got canceled. We're homeless."

"You can't just crash on someones couch for a while?"

"ALL our lease's got canceled. except you and Marius." Enjolras decided to join the conversation again, his voice sharp.

Grantaire looked around the room at his friends. Joly gave him a small, sad nod confirming Enjolras' words and Bahorel gave a small smile paired with a shrug.

"Can they do that?" Grantaire asked. Shocked. Stunned. For the first time, probably ever, mad at the government.

"No." Enjolras roared. "We're making this up." Sarcasm didn't suite him. Not that it wasn't attractive on him. Everything was attractive on him. It just wasn't as attractive as everything else and it reminded Grantaire a little too much of himself. That completely defied the point of Enjolras whom Grantaire admired so because he was as different from Grantaire as humanly possible.

"Why didn't they do the same to me?" 

"Why would they? You don't actually participate in any of our protests or riots. You just sit there with a bottle, mocking us." 

"Okay. Marius then. Why didn't they kick him out?" 

"We're still working on that." Combeferre said but everyone knew he still had his flat for the same reason Grantaire did. They where just more polite when it came to Marius. Apparently not committing to the cause because of a girl was more acceptable then not committing because of- well- lack of belief/motivation/will to live? 

"Okay. So I'll house half of you. Marius will house the other half and you guys will figure something out. You always do." 

Enjolras is about to say something. Angrily. But Combeferre stopes him with the usual hand on the shoulder. Grantaire is a little envious about how often Combeferre get's to do that but doesn't dwell on that.

"That's not all. We've all gotten fired from our jobs. Joly, Courfeyrac and I have been expelled. I think we're even banned from the Uni grounds. The government is fighting back, Grantaire and we're a group of 13 if you count Cosette and Musichetta-"

"Why would you ever not count me?" Musichetta chimes in from on top of Bossuet's lap.

"As I was saying." Combeferre continues. "There's only 13 of us on a good day. We can't exactly win in a fist fight against the government or France, let alone all of it's allies."

In the five years that followed that complete disaster that was 2016 the world fell to peaces. More and more people with no regard for human rights where put in charge and more and more citizens of those nations turned there backs on equality. France, England, Whales, Spain, and Portugal allied up to try and convince the rest of Europe to join them in there attempts to 'make everything better' which actually meant making everything worse. With America and Russia backing them up the situation looked pretty dire and the people where given less writes and less of a say. The death penalty was back, and a lot of things where punishable.

Combeferre wasn't wrong about there chances in a fist fight, or even a fight in which they where armed. They'd only managed to get about half a dozen good hit's in when the police started taking them in at the last weeks protest. About five of those hit's where courtesy of Bahorel which was an important fact, Grantaire thought.

Okay, so admittedly Enjolras and Combeferre where right. Grantaire hated it when that happened. The ABC needed somewhere to go, somewhere where they could continue to believe they had a chance of making a difference and the sea did sound like the only option at that point. Even if it was a bad one.

"Fine. You win. Go have fun on your sail boats but don't come crawling back to me when the whalers kill you." He was in the middle of getting up and leaving, he figured he could always say his farewell to Joly and the others after the meeting, when Enjolras stopped him with and unwelcome, mostly unwelcome, hand on his forearm.

"Grantaire, I know you don't believe in anything we do, and you've never shown any interest in helping us achieve any of our goals, but we need you for this to work."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"You and Musichetta are the only two people in this room who know how to sail."

"WHO TOLD HIM?" Grantaire almost yelled. He glared at Musichetta then at Joly then at Bossuet. They where meant to be his friends. Those three, plus Bahorel and Eponine who where both missing at this meeting, more then the others and here they where talking to Enjolras about him behind his back.

"We didn't. I swear-" Joly started but didn't get too far before Enjolras cut in.

"You told me, Grantaire. You told me one night when you where really drunk and called my mobile by accident. I think you where trying to reach Eponine. You told me you missed sailing and how you used to be good at it and how you sometimes thought about competing again."

Grantaire remembered that phone call. It wasn't an accident. He just pretended it was after he realised what he was doing. He didn't, however, remember spilling his heart to Enjolras about something as trivial as sailing, a hobby he swore to stomp out the day his grandfather died.

"Please Grantaire." Enjolras said, loosening his grip on Grantaire's arm. "We need you."

"Fuck. FINE." Grantaire groaned. He couldn't say no to Enjolras especially when he asked like that, like he actually needed Grantaire. In fact Grantaire would have probably thrown himself off a cliff for Enjolras if there had been a 'please' and a 'we need you' in the request, so what was he meant to do but follow orders and sign the contract for his own emotional demise.


	2. The last moments of 'Normal'

The next day was a busy one. Grantaire had always thought that he'd be able to disappear off of the face of the earth in a matter of hours if he ever needed to. He was wrong.

When he was a kid and then later a teen Grantaire's grandfather had taken him sailing in the holiday's for multiple weeks at a time which taught him a lot about yachts, including the fact that there isn't a whole lot of space on them.

Having been drunk and not really paying attention when Combeferre and Enjolras filled him in on what was going to happen he was sure of only five things:

1\. They would be on the boats for a long time. Well, until the people of France where willing to fight for there land back, so Grantaire figured he might as well get used to the idea of living out the rest of his life on the sea.

2\. He'd be skipper (captain) of one of the boats while Chetta captained the other.

3\. Not a single person in 'his crew' knew even the basics about boats. Bloody hell, who thought this was a good idea?

4\. He'd only have room for the basics. So clothes and Alcohol.

5\. Chetta's boat would be the radio station and his..... well, he stopped listening at that point.

First things first, Grantaire packed everything he was going to bring into a backpack and a cardboard box. He didn't actually pack the cardboard box yet but he kept it close, for later.

He packed three t-shits, and three loose fitted, soft fabriced, short sleeved button ups, one pair of shorts, one pair of board shorts, one pair of sweats, five boxers and five pairs of socks. Considering that they where going to be on the water he figured washing clothes every other day should't be too much of a problem.

After stuffing in his favourite hoodie, the green one with the pint stains, and a towel into there bag there's just enough space left for his toiletries and a couple of books. Scanning his shelf he eventually settled for 'The Odyssey' and 'The Iliad'. If he's honest it was never really a question. In the end he would have always picked those two books no matter how much we was going to miss some of the other ones he had.

His collection of things wasn't a big one, not at all. Just a few clothes, a few books and a few mediocre at best paintings of his friends. And of Enjolras whom he couldn't really call a friend but painted most of all.

Then there where, of course, the brushes and tubes upon tubes of paint which Grantaire was most sad to say goodbye too. Clothe: he didn't need to be happy, books: he was sure his friends (Combeferre and Jehan most of all) would bring plenty that he could borrow, paints: that was his thing, his form of escapism, his happiness and he was willing to leave it all behind. What for? To follow Enjolras out to sea? He hand't decided yet if any of it was worth it. Not that he'd stay behind if it wasn't.

Everything Grantaire didn't pack he packed into two boxes. The box for donations (Enjolras would be so proud) and the box for his mother. The box for his mother was filled mostly with his paintings and a book or two that he's particularly enjoyed. Just in case they ever came back, as unlikely as it was.

The second box had everything else he owned in it and it was that box that he dropped of at a small, church that was know to have stayed away from corruption whiles everyone else seemed to fold so easily.

It's almost noon by the time Grantaire has dropped his stuff off at his mother's, told her where she'd be able to find his car and then tried to convince her that everything was fine and she should worry and of course they'd see each other again. The last bit, of course, was a lie.

 

Lying to his parent's was something Grantaire had mastered by a very young age. 'I love you too' was the most common one. But he never felt bad. What was a lie that was just echoing another?

 

Don't be late. Grantaire looked at the text message he'd received from an un known number he guessed must be wither Combeferre of Enjolras. Everyone else was in his contacts. Looking at his watch he realised that he only had about two hours to get to the grocery store and then to the harbour. Late was going to happen weather Enjolras liked it or not.

At the shop the cardboard box, he'd set aside came in handy. He piled everything he'd bought into it, hiding the bottles of wine and rum under the caned goods and packs of pasta.

Eight bottles of cheep wine, two bottles of slight less cheep wine, for the unlikely event of an even, and two bottle of rum where going to make this journey with him, and he was prepared to fight someone to ensure it.

Usually Grantaire wasn't much of a rum kid of guy. He'd always favoured wine to anything else, despite the fact that it made him feel like a pretentious prick, but if they where going to be pirates they might as well do it right.

There where also a rather large amount of water bottles in the mix because country to popular belief Grantaire wasn't stupid, just a little (a lot) self destructive and a bit of an ass.

Not that it mattered that he thought about keeping everyone hydrated. It didn't matter to Enjolras. That much was obvious when he parked the car and almost as soon as the door was open even a centimetre heard the irritated: "You're late."

"Only by a couple of minutes." Courfeyrac said pulling Grantaire into a hug making it quite difficult for him to unload the trunk. "I'm glad you came."

"Uh. Thanks. I couldn't let you have all the fun with our fierce leader here and his right hand nerd. Speaking of, where is Combeferre. It's so strange to seep you with out him there to keep you from punching someone."

"Don't do that." Courfeyrac said, but he was still smiling at Grantaire, he was always smiling. Enjolras on the other hand, very much was not.

This whole thing was a disastrous idea, a catastrophe in the making, an avalanche of adversity and a whole bunch of equally as terrible, and equally as dramatic things like that.

Oh how Grantaire wished he'd never joined Bahorel to Feuilly's birthday where Enjolras had been sitting on the couch looking like a god and sounding like so much more when ever he opened his mouth to speak. Then maybe he would have been spared the torture that was undoubtably awaiting him.


	3. A pretty sweet boat/ A pretty bad day

The boats where nice, really nice. And a little part of Grantaire got exited over the prospect of being on the sea again, sailing from bay to bay, throwing anchor, snorkelling, falling asleep under the stars and to the sound of the waves braking on the hull of the boat. Not that Grantaire would admit that to anyone.

"So, which one's mine?" Both boat's where identical from the outside, except for the names in white letters along the dark blue of the hulls, and Grantaire figured that most of the differences between the two where probably hidden bellow deck.

"We have 'Prometheus'." Enjolras sad reaching out his arms, offering to take Grantaire's bag. Grantaire didn't notice, however, having been too preoccupied with being torn between pleased about the name of the boat and displeased with the fact that Enjolras said 'we'. In the end it was the later that he felt he needed to address.

"We? We're on the same boat? This ought to be fun. We should have the others place bets of which one of us is going to die first at the other's hand. My bet is on me."

Courfeyrac was amused. Grantaire could tell, but then again, when wasn't Courfeyrac amused? Enjolras on the other hand looked like he wanted Grantaire to win that bet, by all means necessary. 

"Look, I know you're not happy about this arrangement. Do you think I am? The least we can do is try to be civil about it."

"Again with the 'we'." Grantaire was purposely trying to wind him up at that point. "Carful or someone's going to think we're a couple."

Enjolras glared. Grantaire felt accomplished. Courfeyrac laughed.

 

Judging by the way the interior of his boat was dressed Grantaire felt it was safe to assume that he had pulled the short straw, i.e. the dull boat. There was a kitchen, well, it was really more of a stove, rigged in a way that it was always upright, no matter the position of the boat, a small fridge and a sink. Not that they need anything more, really.

Opposite of the kitchen was a small, very small, almost too small, table surrounded by the couches that doubled as storage. How they where all meant to fit around there for meals was a mystery.

The thing that took up most space was the navigations desk which, in his grandfathers yacht, had been relatively small with one seat of one person. This navigations desk had two seat's on either side of it and wasn't stacked with only maps and other navigators tools but books and folders and what looked like Combeferre's laptop.

Much like in his grandfathers boat there was a small toilet, which Grantaire would probably have to teach everyone to use, and three cabins. One large one in the front and two smaller ones in the back.

Assuming that the other boat had the same general layout that meant that there where six cabins all in all. Six cabins for 13 people.

"Oh man. Which god to I need to pray to to make all of this go away?"

"Grantaire. What's wrong?" Jehan said emerging from the cabin in the front, hair in the usual braid and in a shirt that looked like it might have belonged to Jimi Hendrix.

"Jean. Thank the god that I haven't yet decided upon. Please tell me you're my room mate, or Eponine."

"Actually-" Enjolras spoke from behind him and in a sudden realisation Grantaire's world ended. He tuned to look at the blond who stared back but not in the same hostile way that he usually did. Instead he looked- sorry?

"Oh you've- You're taking the piss right?" He groaned. "Am I being punished? Is this all some elaborate plan to get me back for never trying hard enough?"

"I know you're not happy about-"

"Yeah, yeah. Neither are you. I know. We've been over this already." Grantaire hissed. He didn't need Enjolras repeating how little he wanted to have to anywhere near Grantaire. Knowing it was enough, having it confirmed twice in an hour by the man himself was an unnecessary kind of suffering that Grantaire was no where near masochistic enough for.

"Look, it's fine. I'll just sleep in the cockpit."

"The what?"

"The- You know. On deck." Grantaire was hit with the second world shattering realisation: No one knew ANYTHING what so ever. He was going to have to start from scratch with these people. "Oh man. I- I need a cigarette."

Grantaire didn't like to smoke, not really but if it bought him a few minutes on his own, a few minute in which he could pretend none of this was happening, then he was willing to put his lungs though hell for a while.

As the day went on it got progressively more devastating. First he had to listen to Enjolras bitch about just how much alcohol he'd managed to pack and completely overlook the fact that he'd also made sure to get enough food and water to last them at least two weeks.

After that Courfeyrac sat him down to tell him exactly who would be sailing in his boat with him and who'd get the other boat. Courfeyrac and Jehan he was happy to have in his crew, Enjolras, Combeferre, Marius and Cosette however, where a different matter.

"That's not fair." Grantaire groaned. "Musichetta get's to run the party boat with all of my mates and I'm stuck here with the politically correct dream team."

"Thanks, mate." Courfeyrac actually looked a little hurt by Grantaire's words which made him fell a little bad.

"Sorry. Not you. Or Jehan. You guys are great. But come on. Enjolras hates me, Combeferre only puts up with me because he's a better person then the rest of us and I have next to nothing in common with Mr. and Mrs. Marius Pontmercy."

"I know. I know you'd rather be over there with Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel and Eponine and Combeferre and I tried to make the living arrangements as painless as possible, we really did but this was unavoidable. We're really sorry."

"What about Feuilly?"

"What about him?" Courfeyrac asked, taking a seat next to Grantaire. He'd been standing before which would have made Grantaire nervous had he not been used to people, mainly Enjolras, looming over him at the meetings.

"Enjolras loves him. Can I triad places with him?"

"He doesn't know how to sail."

"Oh right."

That was exactly the next thing on the list of things that made Grantaire's life hell. He spent a whole three hours trying to teach his crew that basics of sailing and failed completely.

"Okay. Fuck it." He had never been that frustrated before and that included the time he accidentally saw Enjolras in nothing but boxers.

In the end he assigned each person a rope and told them that there only job was to pull on, or release said rope when told to do so and only when told to do so.

Cosette, who was surprisingly the only one capable of retaining any of the knowledge Grantaire had fed them made it clear that she was there to help in any way possible.

"Strange how a bunch of academics can't remember something as simple as which side is starboard and which side is port." Grantaire told her as she helped him fill up the water tank.

"They're stressed. Give them time to adjust to they're live being uprooted."

"You're doing fine." He pointed out.

"My life was uprooted the day they executed my father. I've had half a year to come to terms with it."

"Right." There had been gossip and rumours about Cosette's father but Grantaire hadn't been sure weather or not to believe them. It didn't make sense that anyone related to sweet, lovely Cosette could do anything to be in trouble with the law. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Cosette just shrugged. "The way I see it I can either be sad about it, or I can make them pay."

"So you think this pirate radio thing is going to work out then?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I just think it's important that we try."

"Right." Grantaire said again. "Try." It wasn't really his thing. In the words of Master Yoda: 'Do or do not, there is no try' and Grantaire was very much a 'do not' kind of guy.

"We leave at dawn." Combeferre had informed everyone after they had a pretty shitty dinner sitting on the pier talking about this and that, everyone making an extra effort to avoid talking about what there lives would be like after that night.

"Great." Grantaire said with fake enthusiasm. "Any of you lads care to join me at the closest pub?"

"Always." Joly and Bossuet said in unison and together, with Bahorel, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Eponine they made there way off to get smashed one last time before there lives changed for good.


	4. The first Manoeuvre

Two very helpful tips to waking up felling good, by Grantaire.

1\. Don't drink an entire bottle of wine in one night.

2\. Don't sleep on the hard wood of a sailboats cockpit.

He would have added '3. Don't be in the same social circle as Enjolras.' but figured that that only applied to a limited amount of people (12 to be exact) all of whom very cleverly avoided both 1 and 2.

"Wake up! You're asleep on the floor." Enjolras scolded, nudging Grantaire with his foot.

"Oh for the sake of my sanity, would you just step over me and leave me alone?" First unfortunate fact of the early morning: Throwing your arm over your eyes may allow you to sleep further when it's bright out but it's not quite as efficient against a pissed of, devilishly handsome, blond with an unreasonably hard foot.

"We're meant to leave in an hour."

"It's still dark out." Grantaire protested.

"All there better. No one will know which direction we're going in."

"Uh- I hate you sometimes."

"Ditto."

Ouch. That hurt. Sure Grantaire had it coming but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

With a groan and a headache he pulled himself off the ground and made his way below deck to change into something fresh and mentally prepare himself for the day ahead of them.

Everyone had breakfast, everyone except for Grantaire that is who choked down a chocolate bar and some apple juice and decided he could go on that until lunch.

"Hey, good luck today." Musichetta startled Grantaire by showing up suddenly beside him. He'd spent most of the morning standing next to the wheel staring straight ahead while the others sat on the pier and must have been very out of it to not notice Musichetta get on board.

"Uh- Thanks. You too."

"I'm not worried about me. I've been teaching Joly and Bossuet how to sail little by little over the last few months. They're not yet good on there own but at least they know which one is the Jib Sheet."

"Ah. You heard my yelling then?"

"It was hart to miss." Musichetta laughed. "I think my favourite bit might have been: 'It's called 'port' you fool. PORT!"

Grantaire couldn't help but smile. Musichetta always knew how to make him feel better even though she didn't really say or do much. It was more her presence then anything else that sent that warm fuzzy feeling through Grantaire's body and although he never fancied her he completely understood those who did.

She gave a quick hug, squeezing tight before excusing herself to prep her boat to leave.

It was about two seconds after she left that Enjolras stepped onto the boat looking at Grantaire like he'd done something terribly wrong. That being said, it was about two second after Musichetta left the boat that the air of 'everything is fine' she'd left behind disappeared.

Once all the others had packed on Grantaire asked Marius to pop bellow deck and please switch the flip that would turn the battery on. It took four tries until he got the correct switch. There where only four switches.

"Jehan. Courfeyrac. Can you untie us and then stay make sure we don't bump into anything?" He asked throwing on the motor. Both of them promised to do there best which apparently was enough because they made it out of the marina with out crashing into anything, Musichetta's boat on there heel.

"Ferre, can you go bellow deck and try to get in touch with Bossuet."

"Sure."

"You need to say 'This is Prometheus calling Odysseus-"

"I'm familiar with walkie talkie etiquette thanks." Combeferre said in a tone that should have sounded hateful but didn't.

"Just making sure." Grantaire calls after him. "Don't forget to say 'over'."

Through Combeferre and Bossuet, Musichetta and Grantaire decide that Prometheus is going to raise it's sails first and once they where set Odysseus would follow there lead. Seeing as the entire interior of Odysseus was dedicated to the radio transmission there wasn't space for navigation leaving Grantaire's boat ENTIRELY in charge of that. A deception only Grantaire seamed to understand the true idiocy of.

No one would listen to him, which wasn't really a surprise, but he figured it would be fun to throw in an 'I told you so' should Odysseus get stuck in some shallow waters.

"Okay. I'm going to steer into the wind and when I say go, Enjolras you pull on the rope I assigned you. You guys can help him because it will be kinda tough. Okay?"

"Okay."

Grantaire steered into the wind and the shouted "Go." Enjolras pulled. Combeferre helped him. And together they managed to rase the mainsail half of the way up before they started to struggle.

"Use the winch." Grantaire instructed.

"The what?" Enjolras called back.

"Oh for fucks sake. Cosette, come here. Okay you see that cloud? Keep the boat moving towards that cloud."

"Got it." Cosette smiled at him, taking over the wheel, giving Grantaire the opportunity to grab the Halyard out of Enjolras' hands and throw it a couple times around the winch. He then gave it back to them and instructed them to pull some more, until the sail was all the way up, before turning to Marius and Jehan and helping them hoist the Jib.

It was a task that really should not have been as tiring as it was. Especially with six other people there to help him.

Once both sails where up and Marius was ducking away from the flapping of the plastic fabric Grantaire took over the wheel again, asked Cosette to kill the motor and then steered the boat back into the right direction.

Most of the morning was spent sailing with the wind, an easy course that required little mrauvering which meant that Grantaire could stay, standing behind the wheel with out having to worry about anything other then where he pointed the boat.

It felt good to be back on the sea, wind blowing in his hair, the smell of salt all around him and the sound of the waves. It reminded him of his grandfather, the only person Grantaire really believed in, well, before Enjolras that is.

Everyone pretty much left him alone other then when Combeferre had something to say about their rout or when Jehan and Cosette take turns checking on him and asking if he needed one of them to take over. Each time they did he refused with a smile and a 'thank you'.

The alone time didn't bother him, not that he was really alone with Enjolras sitting in the cockpit furiously scribbling something into a notebook and Courfeyrac laying, half naked in the sun and Combeferre, Cosette and Jehan walking back and forth between the cockpit and the quarters below deck, sometimes stoping to make conversation with each other or Enjolras.

If things had continued on like this then Grantaire thought it would all be fine. Of course, that was too much to ask and the universe had different plans, suddenly chaining the direction of the wind.

"Are you fucking- UG." Grantaire groaned as his sails started to flutter. "Okay. Uh. Marius. Marius? Fucking hell man, you need to pulling you're rope."

Marius was no where to be found.

"I'll do it." Cosette said finding the proper sheet quickly and throwing it around the winch a few times, like Grantaire had done before. He made a mental note to thank her later and apologies for having always thought he was kind of boring. Well maybe he wouldn't tell her that, but he'd stop thinking it.

Once the Jib was pulled in enough and he let Cosette know she could stop pulling, he reached for the mainsheet and tried to pull it in while still manning the wheel.

"Here, let me." Enjolras, who had placed down his notebook to observe the situation said taking the sheet from Grantaire.

"Tell me when to stop pulling."

"When the sail stops- yeah. Now. Stop pulling now." Enjolras fastened the sheet in one swift movement, remembering what Grantaire had said the day before or copying what Grantaire, and Cosette, had done earlier.

"Thanks."

"No problem." It was weird to work together with Enjolras. Not a harsh word was exchanged, not a glare was glared. And sure it was only about two minutes of cooperation but it was a good two minutes.


	5. "It's not that difficult"

Fortunately for everyone, mainly Grantaire but also everyone, the wind was coming at them from the side, unchangingly so, which meant after the small adjustment of the sales there wasn't any manoeuvring to be done.

That was until Combeferre picked out the bay they would be staying in that night and Grantaire had to somehow talk everyone though lowering the sails.

"Guys, it's not that difficult. One of you slowly releases the rope bit by bit and the rest of you gather up the sail as it comes down and stuff it into the- no, not like that. You know what. Leave it. It's fine. Leave it. I'll fix it later."

The jib was a little easier to get down since all that was involved was releasing one rope and pulling another. Still Musichetta had her sails down long before Grantaire did and was motoring around in circles. Forwards and then backwards and then forwards again. Almost like she was bored waiting for Prometheus.

Trying to anchor was even more of an ordeal. The original plan was to anchor the two boats next to each other so that they could move from one to the next with out a problem. Grantaire like this idea because then he could climb over and talk to Eponine in hushed whispers about how hopeless there crushes where and maybe talk to Musichetta about trading Jolly and Bossuet for Marius and Enjolras for a couple of days. Of course Musichetta would say no but there was no harm in asking.

Long story short: That plan did not work out and they ended up anchoring separately, much to Grantaire's dismay.

After he was sure the anchor was secure he killed the motor and pretended to check the chain, which didn't really need checking. Any excuse to have a few moments on his own at the front of the boat.

"Hey. Sorry about Marius." Cosette said, startling him. How where all the girls in his life so silent in there movements. God knows how often Eponine had unintentionally snuck up on him. "Don't be mad at him. He's just not feeling well."

Grantaire sighed. What else was he meant to do. "It's fine. Is it seasickness?"

"I think so."

"Give him a few days to get used to the motion. It'll pass."

"Thanks." Cosette left him alone once more.

 

Grantaire was pretty sure everyone knew that he wasn't doing anything other then sitting there and staring out to sea but the way he figured it, he'd done more for the ABC in the last 48 hours then he'd done since he started hanging out with them and going to the meetings so he was fully within his rights to take some time off.

The sun was setting on the horizon when Musichetta and Feuilly took a dingy from there boat to Grantaire's. Did Prometheus also have a dingy? Or was this one of those stupid things where only one boat gets one, like with the maps and other navigation tools?

Apparently all of Enjolras' scribbles where actually scripts and ideas for the pirate radio channel that was meant to begin streaming at midnight that night. Holy and Basset where to be the ones to spread the propaganda. ("For the love of god, Grantaire. It's NOT propaganda.")

Or so Musichetta told him while Feuilly talked things over with Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

"I heard Marius got seasick."

"Of course he did. I mean of bloody course."

"Be nice." Musichetta warned.

"Have you met me?"

"Be nice." She repeated. "Even to yourself."

Grantaire groaned. He could be nice to Marius if need be, being nice to himself, however, was a different matter. "How was your day?" He asked trying to change the topic.

Musichetta explained how she'd had fun and how her crew worked together really well up until Bossuet slipped and hit his head. The injury wasn't too bad apparently but that didn't stop Joly from forcing him bellow deck and fussing over him for a couple of hours leaving only Eponine and Bahorel available for when the wind changed (Feuilly was taking a nap). Still they managed just fine.

The way Musichetta told Grantaire everything with excitement and plenty of giggles made him wish more then ever that he was on the other boat. He wouldn't need to be in charge then, just hang out and pull a few ropes when Musichetta asked him too. Not to mention he'd be able to joke around with Joly and Bossuet and then with Bahorel when Joly panicked over Bossuet, and he'd be very far from Enjolras who's presence he was always aware off on such a small vessel.

When it was time for Feuilly and Musichetta to go back to there boat Grantaire was left sitting there, miserable.

"R, your main sail is hanging into the cockpit." Musichetta yelled at him as there dingy passes him and he almost didn't hear her over the sound of the outboard motor.

"Fuck." He sighed to himself, forcing himself to get up and sort out the sail. Not because it bothered him or because it was proper but because his grandfather would have been disappointed had he left it as it was.

"Courfeyrac told me you want to switch places with Feuilly." Enjolras said, stepping up to help Grantaire tuck the sail in against the boom.

"Courfeyrac." Grantaire growled quietly. Did he have any friends that didn't' sell him out to Enjolras every chance they got? Eponine maybe.

"He told me be because I asked."

"You asked about me? Should I be flattered?"

"I asked because you look miserable."

"In similar news: Joly's a hypochondriac and Marius is insane." Had it been anyone else he where talking to they would have told him to stop being so mean to Marius but Enjolras seemed to agree on the matter and sometimes even yelled at Marius the way he yelled at Grantaire. Not nearly as often as he yelled at Grantaire but it was still nice that he wasn't the only one Enjolras had issues with.

"If you teach me then we won't need you anymore." Enjolras offered.

"Ouch." He grabbed his chest in fake hurt which was actually real hurt pretending to be fake.

"No, what I mean is you'll be able to switch with Feuilly."

"You want me to teach you how to sail?" Grantaire snorted. "Aren't you too busy trying to overthrow the government with pop music?"

" I KNOW YOU DON'T CARE FOR ANYTHING BUT-" Enjolras cut himself of to take a very obvious, very large breath which somehow was enough for him to not continue his rant. A phenomenon thus far unknown to Grantaire. "I'm just trying to help."

"In similar news: I'm miserable."

"YOU KNOW WHAY?" Yet another exaggerated breath on Enjolras' part. " You know what? Fine. Forget it."

"I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'RE TRYING SO HARD NOT TO YELL AT ME." Grantaire shouted after Enjolras who abandoned Grantaire to finish packing up the sail on his own.

In retrospect Enjolras' proposal to learn sailing did make sense. Sure he'd learn eventually considering that they would probably, almost certainly, be on the sea for a long time but if Grantaire actively tired to show him the ropes (no pun intended) then he could be switching places with Feuilly in three weeks? Two maybe.

Of course in order for Grantaire to actively teach Enjolras something he'd have to 'actively teach' it to him which was a lot more one on one time with the object of his affection, who, incase we have forgotten, wasn't all to found of Grantaire, then anyone was comfortable with. Especially with Enjolras' new, strange habit of trying not to yell. What was that about?

Enjolras and company had dinner below deck that night. Only Grantaire ate in the cockpit.


	6. Shifts

Considering that Grantaire had slept under the open sky, this time with a sleeping bag to make the experience ever so slightly more comfortable, it was no surprise that he woke up with the sun.

He stuck his head below deck to see if anyone was up yet. The door to the front cabin, which Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan were sharing was still closed so his safest bet was that all three of them where still asleep.

The door to Cosette and Marius' cabin was equally as closed. Only the door to the cabin that Grantaire was meant to be sharing with Enjolras was open and Enjolras, who was very awake was sitting at the navigation table typing away at Combeferre's laptop.

"Good morning." He said, not looking up from what he was doing as Grantaire descended into the below deck living quarters.

"Is it?"

"It has the potential to be."

Whenever the two of them fought, which was, admittedly, most of the time, it didn't seem to affect Enjolras much. Grantaire would do his best to provoke reaction, Enjolras would try argue with him, Grantaire wouldn't let loose, Enjolras would yell. But by the next time the two of them saw each other, weather it be five minutes later or at the next meeting, things where as though they had never fought. Things where back to normal. Then again, fighting was normal.

"I'm sorry about last night." Grantaire said with out really wanting to. He never apologies before, but being stuck on a two boat fleet together was as good a reason as any to start. "Of course I'll teach you to sail if you want me to."

"Thank you, R. Maybe we can start later?"

"Uh. I'm not sure we'll be sailing later." Grantaire admitted. "There doesn't seem to be any wind today." It was strange, the previous day had been more then ideal in terms of wind but when he woke he was forced to realise that it was no longer so.

"Maybe you could just teach me the terminology then."

"Uh. Sure."

By the time everyone had woken up the wind situation had not improved. Marius felt better though, which Grantaire reluctantly counted as a little victory. Combeferre and Courfeyrac somehow convinced Enjolras that it was okay if they stayed in the bay for one more day and with that Grantaire realised he'd need to find a way to keep himself busy.

He'd probably open one of the bottles of wine be decided to do so later in the day, when Enjolras was less likely to judge him for it. It probably didn't matter when he opened the bottle and Enjolras' opinion of him probably wouldn't improve not matter what he did, still a little denial never hurt anyone.

If only there was a way for Grantaire to get to the other boat, then maybe he could talk to Eponine about how she could do so much better then a lanky weird dude who on top of everything else, got seasick. Except there was a way.

Grantaire pulled his shirt over his head first and then undid the button of his shorts.

"What are you doing?" Jehan asked almost amused.

"Going for a swim."

"You can't" Marius looked as though Grantaire had said something completely preposterous, like: 'I'm going to read Harry Potter and NOT enjoy it.'

"Watch me." He flung his shorts at Enjolras, gave him wink and then jumped over the railing of the boat and tired for the biggest splash possible. Grantaire wasn't a big guy exactly. In fact, Joly made a habit of pointing out how malnourished he looked, so the splash maybe wasn't as dramatic as it could have bin but there wasn't much anyone could do about that, unfortunately.

 

Once he got to Odysseus he was greeted by Eponine who gave him a towel and told him to be quiet. From bellow deck he could hear Joly's voice: "Personally, I miss my freedom of speech. I miss being able to complain with out the fear of getting arrested, I miss being able to believe what I believe and love whom I love, I even miss being able to swear for fucks sake."

They weren't Joly's words. Grantaire knew Joly well enough to know that's not what he spoke like. But they weren't Enjolras' words either, not entirely. It was more like they where Enjolras' words with a hint of someone else. Jehan maybe.

"And I played along for a while. I shrugged off the fact that I was the one who got fined when I was called a fag for wearing a skirt-" Definitely Jehan "I ignored the hate some of my friends got because I knew that speaking up might land me in a cell but you know what? I'm done playing nice."

After he finished talking 'No More Mr. Nice Guy" from Alice Cooper started playing and Eponine informed Grantaire that it was safe to talk again.

"Is this live?"

"Yup."

"We're actually doing it? We've become a pirate radio station? What the actual fuck." The whole thing was so bizarre. The fact that Alice Cooper and a hundred other bands and artist had actually banned on mainstream radio was also bizarre. The world was bizarre.

"They usually play three or four songs and then talk some." Eponine explained. " When the talking happens we need complete silence below deck and in the cockpit. We can talk on the bow though. If we're quiet."

"How long's the show?" Grantaire asked once they where both laying on the bow of the boat, staring up at the ridiculously blue sky.

"It's continuous." Eponine sighed.

"What? 24/7?"

"Yeah."

"And in the night? Or if the motor is on?"

"In times like that we just play a bunch of illegal songs. But Enjolras has been radioing Feuilly about making the whole thing more efficient. I think they want to do shifts, so we can go thought the night. So far it's only Bossuet and Joly who do any talking."

"It's scripted, yeah?"

"Yeah. Combeferre though it would be smart to start of with scripts and then work out way up to improv."

"This is fucking mental." Grantaire sighed.

"I know. But we have to try."

"So I've been told."

"Enjolras?"

"Cosette actually."

Once Grantaire had had the opportunity to talk to everyone and joke around with most of them he thought it best to head back to Prometheus. What Eponine had said about taking shifts had given him an idea, an idea that might be unnecessary and total over kill but he figured if they where going to defy the government so seamlessly a little paranoia could only be a good thing. Or maybe Joly was finally starting to rub of on him.

"Ferre. Nice." Grantaire panted as he claimed back onto his own boat. "Where are Enjolras and Courfeyrac? I have an idea. I know, I know, it's the end of the world as we know it, but just hear me out, okay?"

It didn't take too long to get everyone, really everyone, Marius included, to gather around Grantaire. Of the six people looking at him four looked like they couldn't wait to hear what he had to say, one (Marius) looked like he was going to be sick and one, three guess as to who, looked like he just wanted to get it over with because he had better things to do, how could he not.

"Oh. Um. Well I think we should take shifts staying up at night."

No one said anything which Grantaire took as his queue to keep talking. "So sometimes if it's really windy you stay up to make sure that the boat doesn't slip while we're asleep and well it might be wise to do so always, not because of the wind but incase someone finds us. I mean we're actual fugitives now."

Jehan beamed like he never wanted anything more then to stay up alone from 3am to 4:30am. Both Courfeyrac and Combeferre where nodding. Cosette gave him a thumbs up and Marius did the same once he caught on. Only Enjolras didn't have a reaction. At all. Until he said: "Better safe then sorry."

"Exactly. That's what I was thinking. Anyway, I thought we could-" Grantaire stopped when he noticed Enjolras giving him a puzzled look.

"No, no. Carry on." Courfeyrac urged.

"Um. Well- Uh. We could do six shifts of one and a half hours. That totals to 9 hours so everyone get's at least 7 and a half hours snooze time."

"There's seven of us." Enjolras pointed out. "Are you trying to weasel your way out of having to work?"

"No!" It was almost too harsh. Then again, so was assuming Grantaire wasn't willing to help, which granted, he often wasn't, but this was his idea for crying out loud. "I thought Marius and Cosette might want to share a shift. And uh- I was hopping I could have the last shift."

Enjolras almost looked sorry. Almost.

"I'm sure everyone would be okay with that." Combeferre said and almost everyone nodded in agreement. " What time would that be?"

"I guess it depends on when the first shift starts."

"Right. We could start at 22:00 which would mean your shift end at 7:00." The fact that the math seamed to be effortless for Combeferre really shouldn't have surprised Grantaire. Not after having known him for years.

"There's no way I'm sleeping anytime before 21:00, so I'll take the first shift if that's alright." Courfeyrac spoke up starting the distributions of shifts. In the end they settled for:

22:00 - 23:30 — Courfeyrac

23:30 - 1:00 — Jehan

1:00 - 2:30 — Marius and Cosette

2:30 - 4:00 — Combeferre

4:00 - 5:30 — Enjolras

5:30 - 7:00 — Grantaire


	7. Windwards

Towards the evening Grantaire managed to pluck up the courage to ask Enjolras if he maybe fancied learning the difference between a halyard and a sheet. Teasing was easy, arguing was easy, working together was difficult. None the less Enjolras said yes and Grantaire spent the rest of the day going over the basics once more.

"Port is left. It has the same amount of letters. And the other one side is starboard."

"Port left. Starboard right." Enjolras repeated.

"Okay. I think we're good for the day. It'll all more more sense when we've actually got wind in our sails.

Grantaire had a glass of wine before going to sleep that night. Well, he said 'glass' but it was actually more of a plastic cup, those hideous, things that suburban families kept in the camper vans and came in all different colours.

Afterwards he made his bed, which consisted of his sleeping bag and the deck, and begged everyone to let him sleep while they where on there shifts. Fortunately everyone was able to meet his demands and he didn't wake once until Enjolras' shift came to an end and his begun.

Having dreamt of Enjolras it was a bit of a trip to wake up to his face, not to far above Grantaire's own.

"It's 5:33 already. Wake up. I want to go back to sleep."

"You're getting upset over three minutes?" Grantaire mumbled, not quite awake yet, and not entirely convinced he wasn't still dreaming. "How perfectly anal of you. Have you spoken to Joly about forming a team of-"

"I'm tired, R." Enjolras cut him off. "I just want to sleep, okay?"

"Okay. Go. I'm up." To prove his point he pushed himself upright and forced a smile. Enjolras didn't look amused but disappeared into the comfort of his cabin anyway. Their cabin?

Grantaire took a few moments to get out his iPod and make himself a cup of tea before getting comfortable on deck and watching the shore for any sign of- well, of anything really.

As expected nothing happened. They'd only just started actively braking the law, so Grantaire was willing to give it a few days before they made it onto the most wanted list.

Before he'd fallen asleep Courfeyrac asked why he wanted the morning shift. "So I can prepare some stuff for the day ahead of time." He'd said in the hopes that Courfeyrac would think he was actually contributing more then critique and negativity. However the truth was that Grantaire just really enjoyed a good sunrise, no matter how cliche it sounded.

Staring out to sea, with 'the Beatles' playing into his ears Grantaire watched the sky go from black to blue to pink to orange to yellow. The beginning of Apollos daily journey was as beautiful as all the times he'd witnessed it with his grandfather, the old man taking the little boy into his lap and telling him about all the different greek gods. Apollo had been his grandfathers favourite.

With the sun came the wind, blowing stronger then it had on their first day. Grantaire chanced a peak at the map on which Combeferre had drawn a rout in pencil, according to which they where to continue east, which incidentally was the direction from which the wind came.

"Today's sailing is going to be a little harder then last time." Grantaire explained to the others over breakfast. Marius looked instantly ill. "We can't sail towards the wind so we'll have to cross back and forth.

"We'll have to tack a few times and I'll need all of you to be at your posts when we do."

"Which one is tacking?" Cosette asked, raising her hand and everything.

"That's when we tun with the bow though the wind."

Everyone seemed pretty okay with letting Grantaire tell them what to so so he assigned roles. Cosette and Jehan where to man the jib sheet on starboard, Combeferre and Courfeyrac would take the one on port and Marius was under specific orders to stay on deck and keep his eyes on the horizon in the attempt to lessen his seasickness.

"What about me?" Enjolras asked.

"When you're not writhing content for Jehan's scripts I'll teach you how to man the wheel."

 

Retrieving the anchor was an ordeal, but setting sail was a much smoother process then in had been the first time round.

"No. Jehan. Cosette. You have to pull is as close as you can get it. Enjolras can you pull the man sail in a bit?"

"How?"

"The main sheet. That's the rope just there."

With the sails pulled in close and the boat sailing as head on to the wind as possible the boat started to slant, a completely normal phenomenon. Still a small panic broke out amongst the crew.

"Grantaire." Someone screeched.

"It's fine. This is normal." He called back as the boat boat slanted a little bit more.

Objectively speaking they weren't even slanting that much, barley 35 degrees but was obvious that most of his friends where scared, well, all of them except maybe Enjolras, who Grantaire suspected might be immune to fear.

With a sigh Grantaire steered leewards, lessening the angle between Prometheus and the sea. "You guys are no fun." He pouted.

Looking over at Odysseus he could tell that Musichetta wasn't going as easy on her crew as the boat slanted so much Grantaire could see the keel. Oh how he wished he where there instead, pushing hard against the wind, daring it to push back. Instead he was stuck playing it safe, not that they way Musichetta was sailing wasn't safe seeing as it was impossible to capsize with a kiel. Still if his crew was going to listen to him Grantaire figured he'd have to not traumatise them first.

 

"You want to be over there." Enjolras came up next to Grantaire after they'd tacked, almost flawlessly mind you, for the third time that day.

"Huh?"

"You keep looking over at Odysseus."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be." Grantaire couldn't figure out why Enjolras was being so civil with him but he wasn't going to complain, especially not if Enjolras kept touching his shoulder like that.

"I'm sure we'll be sailing like that too. Just give these guys a few days to find there sea legs."

" Uh-huh." Grantaire wasn't really in the mood for that conversation. He wasn't really in the mood for Enjolras' pity or guilt or whatever it was that was suddenly forcing him to be friendly with Grantaire.

"Chetta has got an advantage. She's taken Bossuet and Joly sailing before."

"And the other three?"

"Eponine and Bahorel are fearless." Enjolras wasn't wrong about that but-

"Feuilly?"

"Feuilly's probably terrified. I'm not entirely sure he can swim. But when have you ever know Feuilly to let anything get to him. The man is superhuman. He worked three jobs and still had time to volunteer at homeless shelters."

"I know." Grantaire didn't need reminding that all of his friends where so amazing it was almost as though they belonged in classical literature. Then there was him, the weak minded, struggling, alcoholic artist who would feel right at home in some terrible, slow burn, coffee shop AU, with all the pining and the angst and he was 26 for fucks sake, he wasn't meant to know that much about fanfiction.

"What if-"

"What?" Enjolras asked.

"What if they just trust Musichetta more. I mean I'd probably be scared too if I where in charge." Enjolras looked at him like he was going to start yelling. "I am scared too." Grantaire added more quietly.

Immediately he wished he hadn't said it because once the words where out in the open Enjolras' expression changed from the pre-fight look that usually faced grantaire to something that resembled the way Eponine looked at him when he was busy spilling his drunken heart to her about his hopeless pining. It was pity. Good for nothing, motherfucking pity. Grantaire didn't want it. Grantaire didn't need it.

"Here." He said trying to give Enjolras anything else to think about. "Take over for a while."

"I'm not sure I-"

"It's easy. Don't worry." Grantaire encouraged. "And I'll stay right here, ready to step in if something goes wrong. Not that anything can go wrong on this course."

Enjolras reluctantly agreed and did a surprisingly good job considering it was his first time. Well, okay, not a 'surprisingly' good job, it was never surprising when Enjolras was good at something. It was normal.

The boat even salted a few times and Enjolras kept his cool, which Grantaire had to give him credit for. The fact that everyone seemed to be more comfortable with the slating of the boat now that it was Enjolras who was doing it was a fact that went unmentioned.


	8. Lonely mornings for two

Grantaire woke up to the sound of Enjolras banging his knee on the side of the cockpit.

"You okay?" He mumbled.

"Yeah. Uh. Sorry for waking you."

"Sallright. What time is it?"

"It's uh-" Enjolras looked at his watch. "5:10."

"Might as well stay up then." Grantaire pushed himself into a sitting position. The night before they had managed to attached themselves to the side of Musichetta's already anchored boat which lead to a group dinner and some wine while Enjolras took over the radio station, sharing all his thoughts for with the world. He must have talked for two hours with out break and Grantaire felt kind of bad for anyone listening.

Tipsy and exhausted from the day's work he fell asleep pretty early, early enough to not feel like death at 5:10am.

"You can go to sleep if you want." Grantaire offered.

"I actually think I'll stay up. If that's okay."

"It's technically still your shift. You can do whatever you want."

"No. I mean, during your shift."

"Oh." Grantaire had been looking forward to the aloneness of the early morning and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to properly appreciate Apollo's arrival on the horizon when the sun god himself sitting right there. The way Grantaire saw it there sun would wither not rise since one person- god?- couldn't be two places at once, or the sun would rise and Grantaire would be forced to realise that Enjolras wasn't actually the greek god. Obviously Enjolras wasn't a mythological being from another time but you can know something with out necessarily wanting the proof to back it up.

"You can even go back to sleep if you want." Enjolras suggested but Grantaire shook his head. He was up already, the chances of him being able to fall asleep again where slim. He slipped below deck to grab his iPod and make himself a cup of tea, not bothering to ask Enjolras if he wanted one. He did, however put on, more then enough water for two mugs.

When he reemerged on deck with his earphones in and and one of the stupid, colourful plastic mugs in his hand he looked at Enjolras who was looking towards the shore and said: "There's hot water in the kettle." Not bothering with the fact that he wouldn't have heard Enjolras say anything over the sound of his music.

The next two day's played out in a similar fashion. After breakfast they would raise there anchors and set sail, everyone getting better with each tack. Marius's seasickness even got better and him and Cosette ended up doing most of the work between hosting the sails and getting them back down again, while Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan worked below deck, mapping out there rout and writing up scripts for Bossuet and Joly.

Enjolras spent half his time below deck helping with the writing and the rest of the time behind the wheel, listening to Grantaire explain when the sails needed to be close and when the sails needed to be far.

Before nightfall they'd find a bay, Musichetta would throw her anchor and then Grantaire would attach himself to her so that they could all spend dinner together while Enjolras took two hours to talk about taking a stand and what not.

Eponine, who was in contact with her sister in Paris explained that there radio station had become surprisingly popular and was starting to get the attention of news broadcasters which meant it was only a matter of time before they where considered criminals in the eyes of the government.

"We need someway to expand on this." Combeferre said when Enjolras ended his- segment?- and joined them back on Prometheus. "If we could continue though the night with more then just band music."

"A charming idea but I'm already short on crew now that I've got my boys busy all day." Musichetta pointed out and Grantaire couldn't help but notice how pleased Joly had looked when she'd said 'my boys'. "I don't need Eponine, Feuilly and Bahorel, too tired from a night of talking into a mic."

"We don't need to go though the whole night." Courfeyrac said. "I mean from 1:00 to 5:00 chances are no ones listening. And we'd take shifts too. Jehan could have an hour in which he reads poetry designed to inspire anarchy."

Jehan beamed at the suggestion.

"Feuilly could talk about the struggles of being an emigrant." Bahorel suggests.

"Exactly." Courfeyrac exclaims. "We can all talk about things that are important to us, in between the illegal music breaks of course, make it really personal, you know. That way the people will know that we are just like them. That we're fighting with them."

"It could work." Combeferre agreed.

"That's just wonderful." Musichetta groaned. "We'll never get any sleep with you guys rallying the people from our living room."

"We won't yell or anything." Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "And he can get headphones or something so that the music, won't play into the boat."

"Just bribe her with her own show about LGBTQ rights." Joly laughed. "Then she'll be abroad your plan." Musichetta gave him a warning look but he just smiled in response. Bossuet laughed silently and tangled his fingers with hers. The three of them where sweet. Painfully so.

Talking and planing commenced. Time slots where assigned, themes and motives where discussed. Grantaire was only half listening for most of it and ended up falling asleep in Eponine's lap.

"Grantaire." Enjolras shook him lightly to wake him up.

"Mm hm. I'm up."

"You can keep sleeping if you life. I'll stay awake either way."

"Nah." Grantaire was starting to get used to waking up early and was enjoying it a little. Sure Enjolras was still there, doing it whatever it was that Enjolras did, but with his iPod and tea the mornings where still 'Grantaire time'.

"Tea?"

"No thanks."

"Didn't think so." Grantaire disappeared into interior of the boat, took his sweet time and then emerged again with his bright yellow, plastic mug.

"You forgot your iPod."

"Huh?"

"You've forgotten your iPod."

"Oh." So Grantaire had. And Enjolras had noticed. "Uh. I'll get it later."

"You fell asleep last night."

"Well spotted." Maybe he should get his iPod after all? Then Enjolras would stop talking to him.

"You never said if you wanted your own radio show."

"What would I talk about? I don't care about saving the world." Grantaire knew that would shut Enjolras up, at least for a while so he was properly surprised when it didn't.

"We thought you might want to talk about art?"

"Oh. Uh- Maybe not."

"Okay." There was no yelling, no disappointed sighs, no hateful glances. It was almost as if Enjolras had finally accepted Granaries indifference. And somehow that was worse then the disappointment. "If you change your mind, we can fit you in somewhere."

"I won't change my mind."

After his tea Grantaire took his cup down, washed it, grabbed his iPod and used it assure that Enjolras wouldn't try to talk to him anymore. Wouldn't make him feel bad for not caring about a cause he just couldn't bring himself to care about no matter how often he'd tried, for Enjolras' sake.

He'd talked to his friends about it, asked them why they fought, what motivated them. Eponine did it to make a better world for her brother, Bahorel simply lived to fight and had enough brains to dedicate that fight to something good, something that might benefit other people, Bossuet and Joly fought for each other and for Musichetta, Musichetta fought for a world in which she could love two men and not be prosecuted for it, a world in which anyone could love whomever they wanted to love.

All where good and valid reasons but none of them moved Grantaire enough to make him believe that a better world was possible, not after it had gone so badly downhill over the past couple of years. Not after he'd witnessed as history repeated itself leading to the deaths of millions.

Maybe he was selfish, maybe that was true. And maybe all of his friends where selfless and better then him. No, that wasn't a maybe. His friends where better then him and even if he thought they where naive at least they where trying, at least they made an effort.


	9. Pop Culture

The next day's sail was slow, there was barley any wind so the fastest speed they where able to achieve was a miserable 2 knots.

Both Jehan and Courfeyrac had joined Musichetta's crew for the day so that they could do there radio bits in the time before they anchored leaving Grantaire with Marius and Cosette for company. He'd become quite fond of Cosette, how could he not, and even Marius was starting to grow on him but when the two of them where together they where insufferable.

He tried to just displace his mind and enjoy the own miserable company of his private thoughts but that was no longer any fun since he'd had plenty of alone time in the wee hours of the day so he tried desperately to get the lovebirds to talk about anything but each other. It probably goes with out saying, but his efforts where in vain.

"Combeferre." Grantaire short from yelled at the man sitting closest to him. "Ferre!"

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm bored."

"Grantaire, we're busy." Enjolras groaned, looking up from his scribbles for the first time that day. It was well into the afternoon and both Enjolras and Combeferre had been 'working' straight, other then the time they took off to help rase the sails.

"It's okay. We can take an hour of." Combeferre offered though it was pretty obvious that he would have preferred to keep making sense out of Enjolras' notes. He looked to Grantaire with an expression that said: 'How would you like me to entertain you?'.

It took everything Grantaire had to not make a joke about stripping. Instead he settled for: "Read anything good lately?"

Lifehack by Grantaire: Do NOT ask Combeferre about books. The man was like a well of information on classic fiction, non-fiction and the Lord of the Rings? Someone really should have stopped him, but Grantaire didn't have the heart to tell Combeferre he didn't care about the difference between regular Orcs and the Uruk Hai.

"So which ones are the scary ones with the hand thing on there face?"

"Uruk Hai. But not all Uruk Hai have what you called 'the hand thing'. That's just those who belong to Saruman's army."

"Uh-huh."

"This isn't making any sense to you, is it?"

"No. Sorry. I'm more of a Harry Potter type of guy." At this Enjolras laughed. Like actually laughed.

"Everyone's a 'Harry Potter type of guy'." Marius stated.

"It's true." Cosette chimed in. "Who wasn't disappointed when they didn't get there Hogwarts letter?"

Whilst everyone was in the middle of nodding there hand in agreed disappointment, Enjolras stood up suddenly, startling Grantaire a little.

"You're a genius." He said to no one in particular, though Grantaire suspected he was talking to Cosette, or maybe even himself. He then disappeared below deck and emerged again with a new notebook.

"Are you going to tell us what you're so exited about?" Combeferre smiled at Enjolras, the way new fathers sometimes smile when there toddler does something silly. Various images of Combeferre as a father flooded Grantaire's mind. He'd be good at it, patient, kind, but not afraid to draw a line.

He could just imagine a 30 something Combeferre, glasses balancing on his nose, a fairytale book on one arm, a child on the other. It was the most suburban image imaginable, white picket fence and all. Ferre would probably be a professor or something equally as respectable by then with a wife who taught elementary or was a doctor or something like that. Something that involved people skills. Maybe an air hostess?

And they would love each other. It wouldn't be one of those marriages that falls apart eventually, sure they'd have there difficulties but they would always be able to work though it, Combeferre was always able to work though anything life though at him.

Grantaire was caught up in fantasising about someone else's ideal life that he almost didn't catch Enjolras say: "I've had an idea for another segment: Pop Culture with R."

"Uh. What?" Grantaire said. He was pretty sure he was 'R', unless something had changed and people had failed to tell him, and he was also sure he'd make it clear he didn't want a segment.

"I know you said you didn't want to, but- Just picture it, we could call it 'What would Buffy do?' and you could talk about different fictional characters and how they would not let the government treat them this way."

"Buffy?" Enjolras couldn't be serious. Also, how did he know Buffy? "The vampire slayer? She wouldn't care about corruption and human rights violations, Apollo, she's too busy slaying vampires."

"Not Buffy then. Dumbledore? King Caspian? Princess Le-"

"Why don't you make it: Pop culture by someone who actually cares?" Grantaire had to admit that the segment did sound kind of fun, but he was also an asshole who refused to let himself have anything good.

"Okay. I'll do it." Enjolras was no longer letting Grantaire extinguish his excitement, an unfortunate turn of events.

"You already have a segment." Combeferre pointed out. "I'll do it if you want."

"Thank you, Ferre."

That evening Combeferre spoke to Bahorel about taking over his look out shift so that he could do his post-midnight segment about fictional characters and celebrities. Grantaire thought the whole thing was stupid because no one would be listening from 2:00 to 4:00 anyway and if they where then they probably would care about the fact that Freddy Mercury would have taken a stand against the man.

Their delusions where not helped when Eponine announced at dinner that Enolras' segment was a hit and Bossuet was a fan favourite. How did they possibly have enough listeners after one proper, planed out day, to have enough fans to even determine a favourite? More importantly: what was Bossuet talking about that people loved so much? The amount of times he'd tipped on the same step?

"Looks like your luck is turning around, huh?" Jehan said jabbing Bossuet in the ribs with his elbow, which, naturally, unbalanced Bossuet and sent him crashing into Musichetta. She caught him easily and gave him a loving smile. Grantaire might have gotten a cavity.

 

Grantaire was woken once again by Enjolras who told him he could keep sleeping if he wanted.

"It's my shift you know? You're the one that's meant to go back to sleep." He mumbled before going to make himself some tea. This time round Grantaire made sure not to forget his iPod so that Enjolras would have zero incentive to talk to him and incase he did talk Grantaire wouldn't be able to hear it.

But Enjolras was smart and didn't really need words to get Grantaire's attention. Apparently all he had to do was look over at Grantaire a couple of times a minute before his earphones where out and he was hissing: "What?"

"I wanted to thank you."

"What?" It was a different 'what'. Not irritated but genuinely surprised.

"You gave me the idea for the pop culture segment."

"Cosette gave you the idea for the pop culture segment."

"But you set Cosette on the right track."

"I didn't do it on purpose." Grantaire argued. "And in case you've forgotten, I refused to do the actual segment." Was he actively trying to initiate conflict? Yes. Was he a fist class prick for doing so? Also, yes.

But Enjolras didn't get upset and Grantaire wasn't sure weather he was glad about it or ridiculously mad.

"Do you ever get tired of needing constant validation?" Enjolras asked in a way that didn't sound like an accusation but casual small talk.

"I do not need constant val-"

"Expect you do. You need people to tell you that you're not as much of an indifferent asshole as you think you are. Because if they don't then it might actually be true and we both know that you don't actually want to be an indifferent asshole, that's just a front-"

"You don't know me." Grantaire snapped. "And anyway, you're the one who thanked me. I didn't ask you too."

"Grantaire, we've known each other for years, I think it's safe to say I know you. At least a little."

"You really don't." If Enjolras knew the first thing about Grantaire then he'd know how hopelessly Grantaire was crushing on him, which, as he often proved, he didn't.


	10. In which everyone gave Grantaire shit about caring

The Enjolras - Grantaire interactions got notably less after they had argued about Grantaire needing validation, which he was more then okay with. Usually he would try to get Enjolras’ attention, by all means necessary, then again, usually they weren’t stuck on a boat together. 

The reason Enjolras was no longer hassling Grantaire was because the Radio station had really started to get attention. It was an actual over night success sorry, the only downside, was that all of his other friends where also constantly busy. 

Combeferre didn’t have time to talk about books anymore since he was busy trying to figure out of Peter Pan might have some sort of ‘anti-goverment’ subtext. Cosette, who’d been given a segment about the environment (seeing as Eponine wouldn’t let anyone else have the segment on womens right) was busy writing up rants about the dolphins dying, and once there boats where anchored and attached it was obvious that everyone on Musichetta’s crew was also pretty preoccupied writing scripts. Everyone except Bahorel, that is. 

Grantaire was spending a lot of time with Bahorel, who it turned out, had developed a crush on Feuilly while having to share a cabin with him. 

“Eponine’s crush on Marius, my crush on Enjolras, your crush on Feuilly. This is the most incestuous group of friends the world has ever seen.”

“Wait Eponine’s crush on Marius?” Feuilly asked, looking inhumanly shocked which Grantaire thought was strange because Eponine didn’t exactly hide the fact. “I thought she was into Ferre now?” 

“What?” Grantaire nearly spilled the wine he was drinking. 

“Yeah. They’ve been spending a lot of time together.” 

“When? They don’t even live on the same boat.” 

“It’s usually after you fall asleep.” Bahorel laughed. “Dude, you sleep so early you miss most of the drama that goes on around here.” 

“I figured all you guys ever talk about is the radio station, which let’s be honest, I could care less about, so I might as well be asleep.” 

“Why do you do that?” 

“What?” 

“Pretend like you don’t care.” 

“I don’t care.” Grantaire groaned. Why was everyone suddenly attacking him about this? They’d never made a big deal about Grantaire’s comments and disbelief before. Well, Enjolras did. Enjolras yelled at him periodically, but wasn’t the same as sitting him down and psycho analysing him.

“You don’t care? It doesn’t matter to you that homosexuals and people of colour are being beaten up in the streets? Or that that poor are getting poorer to a point where it wont be long before people starve?” 

“It’s not that I don’t care exactly,” Grantaire sighed, he was an ass but we wasn’t that much of an ass. “It’s more that I don’t think anything we do will make a difference. So why bother trying.” 

“I think you’re wrong.” 

“I know. It won’t make a difference.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

 

Enjolras didn’t stay up wit Grantaire the next couple of days, probably too tired from working his brain so much, and although part of Grantaire was upset with that development, that part of him that wasn’t a masochist and actually had a sense of self preservation was glad. He did however make Grantaire’s cup of tea before waking him which was rude and just so inconsiderate. 

 

After one particularly hard day of sailing with pretty strong winds Grantaire and Musichetta decided it best if they anchored separately and used the dingy to transport people back and forth between the boats. After Enjolras’ segment was over he reported some of the stats to Combeferre before getting out his book and taking a seat to read it. 

Grantaire, Jehan and Courfeyrac had been playing cards in the boats living quarters and overheard the whole conversation. 

Grantaire was in the middle of giving Courfeyrac a haircut, which was turning out less the ascetically idea. Since there arrival on the sea almost everyone had given there hair a trim, Grantaire did so on the first day. Musichetta followed suit, letting Joly give her a pixy cut. Within a few days everyone had jumped aboard the short and manageable bandwagon. Everyone except Enjolras and Jehan. 

Enjolras struggled with keeping his curls in check, how could he not with the wind constantly tangling it, Jehan however had some secret he was keeping from the others because his hair didn’t seem to be affected at all. It fanned out behind him when he stood on deck and found itself in a loose braid once they’d anchored but it never tangled, never got messy and it was as big a mystery as Bossuet's radio successes. 

“Magic.” Jehan had said and winked when Grantaire asked him about it. 

“You’re hair or Bossuet’s radio thing?” 

“Both. But I think Bossuet’s magic is of the black variety. People like him don’t just suddenly get good at something.” 

“Be nice.” Courfeyrac warned. 

“We’re not being mean. It’s just Bossuet’s had the worst luck with everything he’s tried to do in the past, it’s kind of amazing that this isn’t one of those situations.” 

“Not to mention he’s stumbling over his words all the time. Not exactly radio material.” Jehan added. “But maybe that’s the appeal. Maybe his relationship with the listens is a ‘I’m a trash human, you’re a trash human, we can be garbage together’ kind of thing.”

“Wait. Being a pice of trash get’s you listeners? No wonder Enjolras want’s me to have my own segment so badly.” It was a joke. Mostly. But Enjolras was not amused. He put his book down and gave Grantaire a long, hard stare. 

Grantaire tried to stare back challengingly, he did, but Enjolras’ eyes where so blue and so intense that Grantaire only managed about a second before he felt like he would either melt or spontaneously combust. That had never happened before. Yet another unfortunate development. 

Either Grantaire’s crush on Enjolras was getting steadily worse or he was just generally becoming less capable of being a functional human being. Both where very likely, as this was Grantaire, but he was petty sure it was all Enjolras’ doing. 

It made sense. Every evening after they anchored and before dinner those who felt they needed it would go for a swim to wash there hair or cool off and whenever they did Enjolras would go in nothing but his boxers. 

To be fair, most of them went swimming in there undergarments and some (Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Musichetta) didn’t feel the need to wear anything at all (they where still french and all, but Cosette and found themselves at a nude beach at one point or another) but it was Enjolras specifically who’s close to nudity was dangerous around Grantaire. Not dangerous for Enjolras himself but more so for the poor lad who wished to drown himself every time he accidentally caught a glimpse of Enjolras, standing on deck, rinsing himself off with fresh water. 

As if the wet fabric of thin underwear clinging to Enjolras’ skin and the ready made cups of tea weren’t enough of a burden Enjolras also insisted on becoming more touchy with everyone. Grantaire was part of everyone. He’s lay a hand on a shoulder, tuck someone else's stay strand of hair behind there ear, use his friends arms and legs as paper when he didn’t have his notebook near and it was all very distracting. 

Sure Grantaire could pretend like he didn’t care when Enjolras was furiously taking notes on his right arm (his left arm was always covered his in make-do art) but his mind always replayed the times he himself had doodled on the arms of various guys and girl in a way of flirting with them. And no matter how often he reminded himself that Enjolras probably didn’t even know how to flirt, there was still that little lingering bit of hope. Stupid hope. Stupid, treacherous hope.


	11. Sunrise

Once sunrise was particularly beautiful. Pinks and Oranges tangled together to paint a masterpiece across the horizon. The water lit up, the clouds looked as though there might be a palace hiding within them, a palace in which only the most beautiful of people where allowed to live. Or the kindest of people, the likes of Cosette.

Enjolras had stayed up that morning, despite the fatigue written plainly across his face. It was a typical case of work being more important then sleep, which Grantaire admitted he wasn’t familiar with but he’d seen it enough in his friends to be able to recognise it instantly.

“Apollo.”

“Hm?”

“Not you. There.” Grantaire pointed towards the horizon. “Apollo, in his chariot pulling the sun across the sky.”

Enjolras looked up from what he was doing, to take the grant total of almost-no-time-at-all too look at the sunrise before going back to his work with a immensely unconvincing “It’s nice.”

Grantaire snorted. “Nice. Right.” He was sure that even Combeferre who sometimes gave of the impression that he liked nothing more then black inc on paper, would appreciate it at least a little bit, Enjolras however didn’t. How could he when he was otherwise preoccupied. How could be find anything beautiful when in comparison to a world in which everyone was equal and people where treated fairly everything just looked bland? Grantaire wasn’t Enjolras though and could fully appreciate the beauty that shone though the miserable state the world was in.

 

The rest of the day was just as nice. It was warm, warm enough for Grantaire to decide against a shirt (unfortunately so did everyone else, Enjolras included) and the wind blew strong but not too strong. Grantaire’s crew had gotten used to the slanting that the boat did when they sailed close to the wind which was fantastic because it allowed Grantaire to have his fun while they sailed and he even suspected that Cosette and Combeferre actually enjoyed it much more then they let on.

Marius, had pulled a complete 180 and didn’t even pretend like he wasn’t having a blast while they glided across the sea at more then 45 degrees to the water.

 

Come the early afternoon they where anchored offshore of a small town. Usually they didn’t anchor until it was almost dark but supplies had been running low and the town was the prefect place to stalk up.

Enjolras, Combeferre and Feuilly took the dingy to bring away there garbage and stop by any supermarket they could find. Grantaire took that time to go for a swim. A proper swim, rather then a pop in the water to wash his hair or shave. The water was a beautiful colour and clear enough to see the ground from on deck.

There had been a few masks in the boat when Grantaire got there so he grabbed one of them and jumped in. It was amazing. The water wasn’t much deeper then six meters, a depth he could easily overcome.

“Jehan.” Grantaire called after having had picked up a shell from the ocean ground. It was surrounded by searching but he’d been really carful and managed to avoid them all. “I brought you something.”

“OH.” Jehan beamed. “Where’d you find it?”

“It was just there.” He pointed down. “You should come in. The water’s nice.” And Jehan did. Soon everyone was in the water (other then the one person who’s turn it was to broadcast there liberal thoughts to the world), either with scuba masks on there faces or jumping from the on deck railing.

Eponine made a point of being able to dunk Cosette. And Marius. And Grantaire and even Bahorel.

“That’s not fair.” Bahorel protested. “You distracted me with your boobs.”

“Ho-ho. Don’t let Feuilly hear you’re say that.” Joly teased.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please. You’re worse then Grantaire.”

“No one is worse then Grantaire.” Bossuet laughed and Grantaire couldn’t help but splash him, which resulted in Bossuet somehow swallowing a whole lot of water and Joly fussing over him while he coughed.

“He’ll be fine.” Jehan laughed. “Swallowing water is part of it.”

“Have you been drinking sea water!?” Joly was hysteric. “The ocean is a universal toilet, Jehan. You could get sick.” Everyone had a good giggle at that. Well, everyone except Joly who was getting panicky.

 

All in all it was a very good afternoon. Courfeyrac got a sunburn (which Joly made a fuss about), Jehan found a way to make a necklace out of the shell Grantaire had given him, and Grantaire, with the help of Eponine, managed to find three more.

“You should give one to Enjolras.” Eponine suggested as she sat with Bahorel and Grantaire on the bow of Prometheus.

“He wouldn’t care.”

“Sure he would.” Bahorel offered, but he didn’t look convinced of his own words.

“Nah. It’s not going to help him overthrow the government so why would he want it? Besides, why would I give it to him when I could give it to you so that you could give it Feuilly.”

“Oh uh-” Bahorel looked down at his hands.

“And you could give one to Combeferre.” He smirked at Eponine who glared at Bahorel which made Grantaire laugh.

“Oh hey.” Said Bossuet who’d apparently been listening in. “All of your boys are out- uh- on land, mainland, yeah.”

“They are not our boys.” Grantaire rolled his eyes.

“Sure they are.” Bossuet grinned. “They just- just don’t know it yet.”

 

In the end Bahorel agreed to take a shell to give to Feuilly, Eponine however, refused. That was fair, Grantaire also wasn’t jumping at the chance to pester Enjolras with a:  
‘Hey look what I got for you. I held my breath and everything. Please love me.’

Not that there would have been any time for that. Enjolras, Feuilly and Combeferre got back, with boxes upon boxes of food and water, plus panicked and distressed facial expressions.

“What’s wrong?” Courfeyrac was the first to ask while Bahorel and Musichetta held out there hands for the boxes.

“Someone in the town recognised us and called the police.” Combeferre explained. “We need to leave now.”

“It going to get dark soon.” Grantaire protested.

“Can’t we sail though the night? In shifts?” Enjolras looked disoriented, and Grantaire didn’t like that. At all. He was meant to have everything under control, always be a couple of steps ahead. He was meant to be sure of himself.

“We can motor thought the night.” Musichetta piped in. “But it’s not going to be easy. Both boats will need to be in communication with each other at all times, since we don’t have any navigation tools.”

“It’s that or be arrested.” Enjolras almost snapped. He was on edge, rightfully so, and Grantaire wanted to help, even if he really did not want to go though the night. In retrospect nothing was quite as bad as getting arrested, not when they where being actively hunted down and the death sentence was very much a real thing. And Grantaire wasn't stupid, he understood that treason was bad and they had committed treason and would probably hang (public, medieval executions had found new popularity in this fucked up time), sill a day of swimming and joking around with ones friends does tend to leave one tired.

“Let’s raise the anchor then.” Grantaire sighed.

 

“Okay. so you need to check the map every 15 minutes or so and then radio in to tell whomever is manning Odysseus if there’s anything in the water they need to avoid.”

“How do we do that?” Cosette asked.

“Use the auto pilot. Any more questions?”

Some of his friends said ‘no’, some shook there heads.

“Okay. I’m going to sleep. Wake me if anything happens.”

 

Apparently everything went well because Grantaire wasn’t woken up once until it was time for his shift.

“Uh. Before you go to bed do you mind showing me where we are on the map?” He asked Enjolras who’d yawned and looked very tired. So much so that Grantaire thought he might be actively trying to look that exhausted.

After Grantaire had been shown there exact location Enjolras followed him back up into the cockpit.

“You’re clearly tired. Give yourself a break.”

“I-“ Enjolras yawned. “I think I’ll sleep up here.”

“You can use my sleeping bag if you want.” And Enjolras did. It wasn't something Grantaire would have usually offered up, but Enjolras looked so worn down by fatigue and stress Grantaire wanted to help. If he had it his way he would tuck Enjolras in, give him a kiss on the temple and threaten him with a: 'I swear to god, Apollo, if you wake up before 10:00 I will tie you down so that you have no choice but to get some rest.'

Unfortunately Enjolras was about as easy to stop as a speeding truck. Even if the truck had suddenly run out of gas it would still be moving, and not slowly, for at least another 15 meters. That was 15 meters of Grantaire's innards adding colour to the road, and blood made him nauseous so he'd decided to just let the truck that was Enjolras crash on his own and make sure to be there to put him together again.

 

Grantaire couldn’t help it, he kept glancing over at Enjolras’ sleeping body, all snug within his sleeping bag, the sleeping bag that would probably end up smelling like Enjolras.

It was dark and he couldn’t make out any details but that didn’t matter. Grantaire didn’t look because he wanted to see, he saw Enjolras enough times to have him memorised, he looked because he liked knowing that Enjolras was there, calm and peaceful and venerable and basically the opposite of all things he usually was.

Grantaire realised that this was the first time he’d actually ever seen Enjolras asleep, the first time he’d seen Enjolras so human. Human was good, human was attainable.

However the period of potentially attainable, human, Enjolras only lasted about an hour before he began to stir.

“Morning.” Grantaire said when he was sure Enjolras was actually awake and not just making strange noises in his sleep. “Just in time to see the sunrise.”

“Huh?”

“You. You woke up just in time to see the sunrise. We’re sailing towards it. It should be spectacular.”

“Uh-huh.” Enjolras mumbled before disappearing below deck to retrieve a notebook and a pen. Grantaire almost didn’t notice just how tired Enjolras actually looked, especially since his eyes still screamed passion, but when he yawned and rubbed his finger over his eyes Grantaire realised that Enjolras hadn’t slept in the cockpit for the heck of it, no, he’d wanted to wake up with the sun so that he could get some more work done, plan is next radio session or whatever it was he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That truck metaphor is terrible. I'm so sorry.


	12. Sleep

“YOU NEED TO REST.” Grantaire yelled as Enjolras and Combeferre tried to figure out a way to get Jehan and Courfeyrac to Odysseus in time for there segments. 

“He might be right.” Combeferre said as Enjolras took another sip of coffee. Cembeferre had been wanting so say something about it for a while, Grantaire could tell. “Enjolras, you’re shaking.” 

“We NEED to figure this out.” 

“We will. I will. You need to get some proper sleep.” 

“Look,” Grantaire was already regretting what he was about to say. “You go sleep, I’ll help Ferre.” 

“You’ll help?” His tone wasn’t doubtful exactly, maybe just a little surprised, which was fair, but Grantaire sill had to hold back a rude comment. What Grantaire really wanted to do was take it back (if Enjolras didn’t think he could do it, then why should he?), but then Enjolras’ opinion of him would never get better and, more importantly, Enjolras wouldn’t get that sleep. 

With a little more assurance that Combeferre had everything under control Enjolras reluctantly gave in and disappeared below deck. 

In the end solving the how to get Courfeyrac and Jehan to the other boat problem took almost no time to solve. Both boats motored close to each other and then where put into neutral. The plan was to have Bahorel pick them up in the dingy but Courfeyrac got tired of waiting and ended up swimming. Jehan followed his lead. The whole thing was rather funny because Grantaire could see Joly on the other boat waving his arms like a mad man and shaking his head, probably imagining all the things that could go wrong. Fortunately, nothing happened, other then Courfeyrac and Jehan getting to there destination a little sooner then they otherwise would have. 

After that they raised the sails in both boats and made their way towards a cove that was far, far from civilisation where Musichetta anchored and Grantaire attached himself to her. It was late by the time they where settled, later then usual since they’d tried to get as much distance between then and the town, where they’d been caught, as possible. It was so late in fact that it was only 20 minutes until Enjolras’ segment. Enjolras’ who had yet to wake up. 

“Can’t we just let him sleep?” Grantaire begged Courfeyrac who had volunteered for wake up duty.

“Someone needs to do the show.” 

“No else would be willing to do it?”

“Everyone else has there own show. We didn’t prepare enough content for two shows.” 

“You can’t just read Enjolras’ notes?” 

“Look,” Courfeyrac said “unless you’re volunteering to do Enjolras’ show I’m going to have to wake him now.” 

“I wouldn’t know what to talk about.” 

“You see my point then?” 

Courfeyrac almost had his hand on the doorknob to Enjolras' cabin when Grantaire sighed and said: “Wait. Fine. I’ll do it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I just- He looked so tired.” At that point Courfeyrac was smiling all cheekily which kind of made Grantaire want to pick him up and throw him overboard. 

 

Jehan who was on before Grantaire took a few moment to explain how everything worked. Since he wasn’t meant to be playing any music for that specific segment all he really had to do was put on the headphones, hit the button and talk. Pretty straight forward. If Bossuet could do it with out blowing anything up then Grantaire could do it. 

“How do I start this?” Grantaire asked Jehan. He didn’t know what he would do after he started it, even with Enjolras’ notes in front of him but he didn’t feel like telling Jehan that. 

“Introduce yourself. Explain why Enjolras cant be here and then you talk.” 

“Introduce myself as what?”

“Grantaire?” 

“You use your real names? You know that how they found us, righ-“

“The songs about to end. Are you ready?” 

“What? No.” Grantaire was starting to panic. Not only did he still not know what he was going to say, but he now also knew how completely insane this whole thing had been. His friends where almost purposely setting themselves up. 

“Don’t worry. You’ve got this.” Jehan gave him a big smile and a thumbs up and then the song came to an end. 

What Grantaire had planed to do was take a deep breath, press the button and say ‘Hallo.’ What happened was that he forgot the breath, hit the button almost too fast and too hard and then said: “Uh.” sharp inhale “Hi.” Of to the side he could see Jehan nodding encouragingly and Courfeyrac holding back laughter. 

“Uh. Hi. Yes sorry.” Grantaire forced himself to just go for it. Enjolras was counting on him. Well, he wasn’t really but if he knew that Grantaire was there taking his segment then he would have been. Or he wouldn’t have let Grantaire take his segment in the first place, which seemed more likely. 

“I’m not Enjolras. Obviously. Enjolras is currently preoccupied so I’m here to take his place, not that anyone could replace him or anything, not ever. I’m more like a shitty fill in, like a substitute teacher that none of the student’s have any respect for.” 

Grantaire glanced over at Jehan who was smiling. Then he looked down at Enjolras’ notes which didn’t really make sense to him. How was he only noticing that now? 

“Uh. I’m not really sure what Enjolras talks to you guys about so I’m sorry if I’ve come and ruined your daily dose of liberal passion or whatever, but I do know why Enjolras talks to you guys and I know why you should defiantly listen to what he has to say.” 

After making the active choice not to try to be Enjolras and just do his own thing instead the words flowed and he found that he was able to talk with out having to think too much about what he was going to say. 

“He may be completely delusional and man kind might not deserve his efforts to save them but none of that seems to stop him. God knows how many times I told him his plans would fail or his ideas where wrong and it’s not like I just said those things. No, I had arguments to back them up. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much evidence I thought I had, Enjolras never even showed any signs of faltering. 

“If there’s one thing, one person I believe in to actually make a difference, if with nothing else then pure stubbornness, then it’s Enjolras. Even when the world is against him he’s willing to fight for it and that’s what makes him a better person then me. That’s what makes him a better person then most people really. 

“Him and his friends. You know them. You listen to them. Any single one of the people you listen to on this station- Well, I can promise you this, they are worth putting your faith in.” 

“Such kind words.” Musichetta said with a giggle. Where did she come from? “I’d love you let you go on complimenting all of us but I have to regretfully inform that it’s time for my segment.” 

“Oh of course. Uh- Bye?” Unsure of what else to say Grantaire just left it at that and walked out to where Eponine was waiting in the cockpit. 

“It’s raining.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s just brilliant.” Rain meant he wouldn’t be able to sleep in the cockpit. In fact even the shifts would be a pain, a cold wet pain. “Can I sleep in your cabin tonight?” 

“Uh. Sorry. Combeferre is staying with me tonight. He wanted to talk about the-“

“Yeah. Okay. It’s fine.” Grantaire sighed. But if Combeferre wasn’t staying in the front cabin with Jehan and Courfeyrac then maybe he could. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, really it’s fine.” 

 

“Hey, R.” Courfeyrac greeted when he was back on his own boat, below deck where the rain could no longer get to him. “We saved you some dinner. Also nice job on the radio show just now. I’m pretty sure the whole of France know’s you’re head over heals for Enjolras, but hey, that’s fine.”

Grantaire looked around him quickly, hopping not to see Enjolras standing anywhere in earshot.

“Don’t worry. He’s still asleep.” Combeferre said, his nose in a book. “You where right about him needing it.” 

“He hasn’t eaten?” 

“No, but if you want to wake him you guys can eat together.” Courfeyrac smirked. Grantaire groaned but made his way towards Enjolras’ cabin anyway. He figured it was better if he woke him then if someone else did and told him all about how Grantaire had spent two hours gushing about him.


	13. Combeferre helped self sabotage

“Wake up? Come on. Wake up please.” Grantaire was gently nudging Enjolras’ shoulder. When that didn’t work me moved onto a mild shaking. 

“Hmng.” Enjolras groaned but didn’t open his eyes. 

“Wake up. You’ll mess up you’re sleeping pattern if-“ 

“What time is it?” Enjolras sat up suddenly a wild look in his eye that would have made Grantaire laugh he wasn’t afraid it would upset Enjolras. 

“It’s a little after 19:00, but it’s-”

Enjolras jumped up, banged his head and the doubled over gripping his forehead with both of his hands. Anyone one else would have stayed down a least for a little while but Enjolras thought he had somewhere to be and was up and ready to sprint thought the door within a matter of seconds. 

“Apollo, calm down. We took care of it.” Grantaire laughed cautiously, as to not offend Enjolras and then put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“You took care of it.” 

“Yeah. I did the show. I mean- Uh?-“ 

“You did the show?” Enjolras was up and at the door within seconds giving Grantaire a good view of the back oh his head, hair all messy and tangled. It was quite a sight, almost enough to distract from the fact that Enjolras was clearly not pleased about Grantaire doing the show and that he was now going to talk to Combeferre or Courfeyrac and they they would tell him all about the show, in scary detail if they had to. 

“Grantaire did the show?” He wan’t even properly out of the cabin. 

“He did.” It was Combeferre’s voice. “He did really well. Eponine just got a call from her sister. Apparently the listeners loved it.” 

“They did?” Enjolras left the cabin and Grantaire followed. The both of them took a seat around the tiny table where the food that was left over for them waited. And, Grantaire was happy to notice, so was a glass of wine. A glass a night had become a regular thing for him and someone must have noticed. 

“They did.” Combeferre confirmed. He then continued to tell Enjolras everything Eponine had heard from Azelma. Bossuet was still a fan favourite, so was Enjolras and surprisingly Combeferre’s 2am (or whatever it was) show about fictional characters and rock stars wasn’t doing so bad either. 

“Oh and Grantaire, Eponine says you made a really good choice earlier.” 

“Of course I did.” Grantaire raised his stupid plastic cup. “I don’t know which choice you’re talking about but of course I did.” He winked at Enjolras who smiled back. Actually smiled back. Sure it was more of an amused smile then anything else, but hey, baby steps. 

“Your name. Keeping it to yourself was wise.” Combeferre explained and Grantaire almost launched himself out of his seat. He’d been meaning to bring that up but forgot somewhere along the line. 

“Well yeah!” You guys have been using your real names? That’s completely insane! You know that’s how they found us right? All they had to do was put your names into some computer and hey, look at all those mugshots.” 

Combeferre laughed and Enjolras continued to smile, though Grantaire couldn’t understand why. This wan’t funny. They where all fugitives all because his friends where too proud? to use fake names. 

“Yes, well, as it tuns out you are the only one that isn’t on the police’s radar.” 

“Ho-ho-ho if this absolutely hilarious.” He couldn’t help himself. Grantaire as the ‘most innocent’ of his friends was a funny thought. Then again Cosette and Marius where really the only ones who could ever qualify as ‘innocent’ in any universe. 

“Wait what about Marius and Cosette?” 

“Cosette has her own show and a record of punching the police.” Combeferre pointed. 

“Marius?” 

“Has a record of living with Cosette. And he’s been with us at rallies. Him and Enjolras where the faces of the ABC web page.” 

“We had a web page?” Grantaire’s eyebrow couldn’t possibly rise high enough. “And Marius was the face of it?” 

“He’s kind of pretty?” Enjolras shrugged. 

“Marius? Marius is pretty? You’re sitting next to Combeferre and Marius is pretty?” 

“Me?” Combeferre asked, stunned and Enjolras’ jaw almost literally dropped. It was so funny Grantaire couldn’t help it. We had laughing out loud trying not to slap his knee for emphasis. The whole day had been strange and now he was having dinner with Combeferre and Enjolras and they where all fugitives who where also rebel celebrities but of course it was the fact that Grantaire found Combeferre attractive that shocked them. 

“Yeah. Oh come on. You’ve really got that whole like ‘I’m emotionally stable and will treat you great in bed’ thing going for you. You and, Apollo over here are the ABC heart throbs.” 

“I always thought you and Enjolras where the hearth throbs.” Combeferre said, quietly, look down at his hands. It was kind of cute. 

“Enjolras maybe. I always pegged myself as more of the confused sidekick. I’m Ron. Ferre, you’re Harry Potter, Apollo, you’re actual babe, Hermione Granger and I’m Ron. Or am I Neville? Maybe Luna? No I think Cosette is Luna-” 

“Grantaire!” 

“Sorry. You’re right. We’ve got this all wrong. Musichetta is clearly the heartthrob.” 

“Grantaire!” 

“Sorry. Sorry. What?” 

“You where rambling.” Enjolras pointed out. “Wait, you fancy Chetta?” 

“What. No? Can you imagine how Joly and Bossuet would take that?” The night was getting funnier and funnier. 

“You’re their best friend.” 

“So? Look. Everyone knows who I like. And it’s not Chetta. He’s so cool, and ridiculously pretty, but she’s not for me.” 

“Everyone knows who you like?” Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Grantaire had not thought that thought. Combeferre looked just as panicked as Grantaire felt, bless him, and Enjolras just looked plain confused mixed with a little bit hurt. “I don’t.” 

“It’s not important.” Combeferre spat out so fast Grantaire actually felt more embarrassed for Combeferre then himself. He’d have to thank him later for having his back. Although the whole situation would have probably been less awkward had it not been so. 

“Are you two-?” Whatever surprise and other emotions Enjolras had been showing where suddenly gone. His face was back in full serious mode and it kind of took Grantaire by surprise. So much so that he took a tad too long before saying: “No of course not.” And he could tell that Enjolras was not convinced. 

“Maybe I should go.” Combeferre stood up, just as quickly and then scrambled out of the boat, notebook under his arm, just as quickly. 

“That was terrible. Can we pretend that never happened?” Grantaire asked, figuring he’d just throw himself overboard if Enjolras had other ideas. Thankfully Enjolras didn’t and agreed that they could just move on. Still Grantaire couldn’t help but noticing that something was off, almost like Enjolras was uncomfortable which, wishful thinking aside, probably meant he didn’t like the idea of Grantaire and his best friend. 

“Look, I’m not fucking your best mate okay?” 

“I thought you wanted to pretend that conversation didn't happen.” Enjolras refused to make eye contact with Grantaire. Odd. Usually he all about the eye contact and the staring. 

“I do. But you’re clearly uncomfortable and I kind of need a favour.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah. Uh. It’s raining and I don’t really fancy on this sad excuse for a couch. I mean I’m short, but I’m not that short.” 

“You want to sleep in the cabin?” 

“It that’s okay.” 

“Of course it’s okay.” Enjolras smiled. That fucker. Who did he think he was. “Technically it does belong to both of us.” 

Looked like Grantaire’s plan to cuddle with Jehan and Courfeyrac went down the drain. And all of it unintentionally. There had been no intent, what so ever to stay in the same cabin and Enjolras. Hell, Grantaire would have been willing to sleep on the ‘sad excuse for a couch’ but his need to make things not awkward had been overwhelming leading to the biggest back fire since trying to take Russia in the winter, for now he had to actually sleep side by side with the man. It really was self sabotage at it’s finest. Self sabotage paired with the ass hole universe that gave Enjolras that smile and thought ‘yup, this is fair to the rest of man kind’.


	14. Small space

Grantaire went to bed earlier the Enjolras, no surprise there, which made the actual act of falling asleep quite simple. However once Enjolras opened the cabin door to go to sleep himself, Grantaire was woken by the noise. He cursed the heavens and the universe and anything that might have been responsible. It wasn’t fair that he should be able to sleep thought everything until the day came on which sleeping though anything would have benefited him.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t meant to wake you.”

“It’s fine.” Grantaire mumbled moving as close to he edge of the cabin was possible. It was a small space. A very small space and even with both of them pressed to the opposite walls there would still be no more then 60cm in between them, and that was only because Grantaire was so unreasonably skinny.

It was true, he had gained a little bit of weight since the beginning of there voyage and his ribs were no longer demanding everyone see them, but he was still the scrawniest of the ABC. The title might have gone to Eponine, had she not had her boobs to add some width to her average. Unfortunately, or fortunately? Grantaire didn’t have boobs.

Once Enjolras was settled in, Grantaire found it really difficult to think about anything else. It would take so very little for either of them to reach out and touch the other. It was ridiculous. Two men sleeping in the same bed, it shouldn’t have been a big deal, and to Enjolras it wasn’t, but Grantaire had never been so sexually frustrated.

It had been a month since he’d snogged anyone, longer since his last proper shag and even hugs and such where given out in limited numbers since he’d gotten on the boat. If he really thought on it he could remember hugging Courfeyrac maybe twice, but that was about it. His body missed touch and now we was laying so, so close to the person he wanted to be touched by most of all.

Would it be rude to leave and just sleep in the rain, he wondered? And would the rain have the same effect at a cold shower? Probably. But it would probably also lead to Grantaire getting sick which was enough incentive to stay put even with out the thought of Joly bitching at him and then fussing over him until he was better. He loved Joly, he did, but that wasn’t something he needed in his life.

After laying there for what must have been at least an hour Grantaire finally fell asleep. Now and hour might not seam like that long of a time, but Grantaire was one of those people who could fall asleep instantly and everywhere, so an hour was insane, and it was a whole lot of sleep time wasted.

 

“Wake up.” Enjolras was shaking him lightly.

“Huh? What?”

“Its time for your shift. I made you some tea.”

“Oh. Right.” Grantaire sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Uh. That’s for the tea.” Enjolras only smiled in response and Grantaire hated him for it. A smile like that should be illegal, it was no wonder Enjolras had been arrested to often.

 

The next evening Enjolras insisted that Grantaire keep sleeping in the cabin and “would you stop being so silly, of course it’s fine. You can’t think I enjoy watching you sleep on the hard wood.”

Grantaire didn’t think Enjolras enjoyed watching him sleep on the wood of the cockpit, he just thought Enjolras didn’t care. Was it too hopeful to assume otherwise? Enjolras had been paying Grantaire more attention (well- he’d been paying his right arm attention when he needed something to write on), he didn’t yell anymore, he smiled at Grantaire, which never used to happen. Was it too much to believe that maybe Enjolras was starting to grow fond of Grantaire?

Sure he would never be anywhere near Combeferre or Courfeyrac on the scale of things Enjolras liked but it was nice to think about not being on the same level as homophobes and racists.

 

A couple of days after Grantaire’s radio debut (a couple of day’s after he’d moved in to Enjolras’ cabin) Musichetta cornered him to ask if he’d be a guest on her show. “Come of, Grantaire. Please. It’s a show about LGBT rights and you’re part of the LGBT community.”

“So are both of your boyfriends. And Bahorel and Feuilly maybe?”

“They all have there own shows. And Bahorel had been on Feuilly’s.”

“Look. It’s not that I don’t want to be on your show. It’s just that- what if Enjolras hears.”

“I can make sure he wont. Ask Joly to keep him occupied or something.” Musichetta said nodding vigorously. Grantaire groaned, there wasn’t really any saying no to Musichetta, not once she’d made her mind up about something so he agreed but only if Enjolras would be no where near them.

 

“You’re guest staring on Chetta’s segment?” Enjolras asked him that evening and Grantaire’s eyes must have gone wide because Enjolras laughed and said: “Don’t worry. She told me that one of the conditions of you doing it was that no one listens in.”

“No one listens.” Grantaire repeated. Musichetta was a smart one, he had to give her that. “Right.”

“Which one is her segment again? Woman's rights?”

“LGBT rights.”

“Oh. Right. Is that a topic you feel deeply about?” If it was anyone else Grantaire would have assumed they where taking the piss but Enjolras sounded as genuine as ever. As if he might actually care.

“Yeah actually. Believe it or not, I don’t want queer kids to get beat up in dodgy alleyways. Odd, init?”

“You know what? Never mind.” Enjolras shrugged and started to walk away. It was really easy for Grantaire to hate himself in moments like these when Enjolras was just being nice and he had to go and be a sarcastic shit. But then again it was so easy to be a sarcasm shit when that’s what Enjolras expected from him anyway.

“Uh wait.” Grantaire called after Enjolras who surprisingly stopped and turned around. The perk about living on a boat was that there was no way of really getting away from anyone. Okay, it was more of a curse then a perk really but in that moment Grantaire was glad of it.

“I’m sorry. Yes, LGBT rights are important to me. Even if I’m not convinced that we’ll be able to change the minds of the bigots and homophobes.”

“Then why are you helping Musichetta out?” Enjolras went back to where he had been earlier, next to Grantaire who was behind the wheel.

“Because she’s Musichetta? You don’t just say no to her, you know?”

“So she is the one then?”

“Pardon?”

“The one you fancy?”

“Oh what?” Why was Enjolras talking about this again? “No. No. We’ve been over this. No.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ then?” He was trying to be cheeky, at least Grantaire thought so, but Grantaire wasn’t really in the mood even if Enjolras was particularly adorable. Possibly because Enjolras was particularly adorable.

“Uh. Is this important or-?”

“No. You’re right. Sorry.” Enjolras picked up the book he’d put down a while ago and started to read again. It was ‘Iliad’ Grantaire noticed. His copy.


	15. Chetta's segment

“Some of you have asked for us to bring back the mystery boy who took over Enjolras’ segment and today we’re making it happen.” Musichetta started of her bit, Grantaire seated next to her. “R, would you like to introduce yourself?”

“Uh. Hi. I’m R. I used to paint and drink. Now I sail and drink. And hey, I don’t believe the world is worth saving. How was that?”

“Charming as always.” Musichetta shook her head at him.

“Wait-“ Grantaire stopped her before she could say any more. “They’ve been asking for me? How do you know?”

“We still have the website. Our outside source checks the website and sometimes people leave us messages on there.”

“Can’t the police track that kind of thing?”

“Uh- well, Combeferre thinks it’s possible but-“

“What the fuck? No. Okay. Everyone listening please, please for the love of god do not go posting anything to our site unless you can be completely sure no one will be able to track it back to you. What’s the point of what we are doing here if you all get yourselves thrown into jail? Enjolras wouldn’t want that. None of them want that. They tell me Bossuet is a fan favourite? Yeah? You guys like Bossuet? Well he’d want you to stay safe and out of harms way. At least until we know how we’re going to make a proper stance with out a mass beheading-”

“Actually. They don’t behead people. I believe hangings are the preferred method of execution.” Musichetta pointed out.

“Oh right. Because that’s better.”

“Well what do you expect them to do? Just sit around while there rights get trampled on? Is that what Bossuet or Enjolras would want them to do?” Musichetta wasn’t mad, she wasn’t debating. Not the way it was when Grantaire had these kinds of conversations with Enjolras. She reminded him more of a teacher, a good teacher, encouraging her students to think for themselves, to come up with the right answer on there own.

“No of course not. I just- Look, if we want to take a stand properly we’re going to have to do it together. Being picked of one by one by the police isn’t going to do anyone any good. If you want to do something then arrange secret meetings. Recruit people. I don’t know. Just don’t advertise your location so that they can find you. And guess what, the internet, yeah everything you do on there is telling them everything they want to know. So maybe leave the ABC sight alone and get yourself a messenger pigeon.”

The last bit was mean to be a joke but Grantaire wasn’t sure it came across as such. But when he looked at Musichetta she was smiling and nodding enquiringly.

“I have to say, I completely agree with you. We’ll give you guys some time to think about that while we play a couple of songs.” She hit a few buttons and then ‘I kissed a girl’ by Katie Parry stated playing.

“This song is terrible.”

“I know.” Musichetta agreed which made Grantaire laugh.

“We’re french. Don’t you ever play anything french?”

“Sometimes.”

“Just not now?”

“My aim is to make this an intolerable for you as possible.” She teased to which he rolled his eyes. It was nice though, hanging out with Musichetta like this. That was one of the things Grantaire missed about there lives, going over to the flat she shared with Joly and Bossuet and just hanging out, talking about whatever, watching a movie, finding other ways to pass the time.

Nights with Chetta and the boys always ended with Grantaire showing himself out after the other thee started making out, but he missed it anyway.

 

A little under two hours later Grantaire was tired and stumbling on his way toward his cabin. Musichetta had allowed him two glasses of wine while they talked, which, with the glass from dinner, made three. Three glasses of wine wouldn’t have had too much of an effect on Grantaire before, maybe gotten him a little tipsy but not much more. This had, however been the most he’d had to drink since the first night when the all went to the put and Grantaire found that he was a little bit drunk.

The show had been fun. Musichetta asked him questions, he answered them. A lot of the questions had to do with him being bisexual and how he dealt with his sexuality and stuff. He found himself really opening up and ended up talking about the only proper fist fight he’d ever gotten into with a man who called him a ‘fag’.

He also learned that Musichetta had also been in a fist fight but it was with a guy who had called Joly a ‘fag’.

 

“How’d it go?” Enjolras was still awake (of course he was) and writing something in a notebook.

“How many of those do you have? I mean you must go though them really fast.” Enjolras gave him a questioning look to wish he replied by pointing at the notebook.

“A few. But, how did it go?”

“Oh right. I think it went well. I’ve decided though that I’m officially envious of Joly and Bossuet.”

“Because you fancy Musichetta.” It wasn’t a question it Grantaire found it amazing how Enjolras could cling into that false pice of information so tightly. Didn’t he have better things to occupy his mind with?

“For fucks sake. No. I mean I’m envious of Musichetta too. I’m just really envious of anyone who’s in a relationship. Everyone except Marius and Cosette. I don’t think I could do the kind of love they do. You know? But Musichetta and Joly and Bossuet. They care about each other SO much. Chetta punched a guy once coz he was rude to Joly. And like, once Bossuet told me that the reason he was so unlucky was because it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the world otherwise if he managed to have the two best significant others in the world and not have some sort of burden. And Joly fusses over them more then he fusses over everyone else which I realise sounds impossible ‘cos he fusses over us so much- You know what, I think Joly might have anxiety? I mean he- What?”

Enjolras was looking at him, concern plastered all over his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m a little drunk but-“

Enjolras sighed. “Grantaire.”

“I know. I know. You don’t like it when I get drunk but this is the first time in a long time and I don’t have the emotional strength to argue with you right now so you’re safe and if it really bothers you so much I promise I won’t do it again. I was just having fun talking to Chetta about liking boys and stuff, you know? And then she got the wine out and it was a good time and I promise we didn’t screw up your radio thing, at least I think we didn’t. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?”

Enjolras laughed. “Really. I just- I worry about you.”

“You worry about me? Nah, mate. I worry about you. You don’t sleep and you over work yourself and I’m still not convinced it worth it. I, on the other hand, am sleeping plenty, have cut down my alcohol consumption- tonight is an exception- and I’ve even put on a little weight. I’m doing fine.”

“You’re not misserable?”

“Whoa. Whoa. Let’s not push our luck.”

“So I should be worried about you.”

“No. See. I’m less miserable then I am before and I even have moments of actual, proper happiness which where a rarity before so we’re back to you being the one that needs to be worried about. Besides most of the time I’m just whining for the sake of whining. I’m fine I promise.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am. Also you have much more important things to worry about. Did you know your listeners are leaving messages and things on the ABC web page? That’s not safe. The police will find them and then your army will get executed one by one. You’re staring at me again. I told you not to worry.”

“I’m not.” Enjolras smiled. Fuck that stupid smile. “I’m just happy to see you involved.”

“I’m not doing it by choice.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t do that.” Grantaire warned. Enjolras was getting ridiculous.

“What?”

“Be nice to me. It’s not fair. It’s rude.”

“How-?”

“It just is. I’m going to sleep now before you keep messing me up with your stupid smile. Good night.” With out bothering to change Grantaire laid down and faced away from Enjolras, trying to get as far away from his as possible. He’d probably regret a bunch of the stuff he said in the morning but that didn’t matter in that moment. He was tired and Enjolras was pretty and if wasn’t allowed to kiss him then sleep was the next best thing.


	16. Ball Pen Tattoos

He had been right. Grantaire regretted some of his words when he was woken up by Enjolras. 

“Ug. My head hurts.” 

“Do you want me to take your shift?” 

“Don’t be silly.” Grantaire groaned. “You need to sleep.” 

“I’m won’t be sleeping either way.” 

“Enjolras!” He warned. “Do not make me get Combeferre over here to scold you about this. Or Musichetta.” 

“Again with the Musichetta.” Enjolras smirked and Grantaire felt the sudden need to punch him in the jaw. He didn’t, but he wanted to.

“I don’t know why you’re pushing this? I don’t fancy Chetta. Okay?” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I guess I was hoping it was her because my only other guess would have been Combeferre. Is it Combeferre?” 

“No. It’s really really not.” 

“Okay.” 

“Would it have been bad if it would have been?” 

“It shouldn’t be.” Enjolras said, looking down. He was doing that a lot lately and Grantaire was liking it. Enjolras was doing a lot of things that Grantaire would usually interpret as someone having a crush on him and he had to keep reminding himself that none of it counted, not when it was Enjolras. 

“But it does?” 

“Yes. I don’t know why.” Grantaire suddenly thought he might know why and it explained why he’d been acting so weird. It wasn’t the explanation Grantaire had wanted, but when was it ever? 

“Have you considered that maybe you fancy Combeferre?” Enjolras’s eyes went wide and he was shaking his head like his life depended on it. “Are you sure? He’s your best mate, it happens-”

“I’m sure. I’m not in love with Combeferre.” 

“Whoa now, Apollo.” Grantaire laughed. “No one said anything about love. We’ve been on the sea for what? three weeks. You don’t exactly get out much. Maybe, maybe you just have the hots for him?”

“I do NOT- I am- I’m not-” He stopped mid sentence and just stared at Grantaire. If anyone wanted to take them by surprise now would be the time with the two people that where meant to be keeping watch, bickering below deck. 

“You’re not? Interested in guys?” 

“No. I am, I-”

“You are interested in guys?” 

“Grantaire!” 

“Okay. Okay. Sorry.” Grantaire couldn’t help smiling a little. It had been a while since he had purposely wound Enjolras up, and he’d forgotten how much fun it could be. Still he decided to keep it at a minimum, now that the two of them where actually friends. “Tea?” 

“Sure.” Enjolras agreed taking Grantaire by surprise. 

 

“I still think you should be sleeping, but I guess there’s not telling you what to do, is there.” Grantaire handed Enjolras his tea and then made himself comfortable on deck. He’d stopped bringing his iPod (not because he wanted to but because it had died) a while back and spent most of the time, before the sunrise, doodling on his arm. 

Joly would have been furious to know he’d been straining his eyes every morning, but if Enjolras could read and wright in the dark then Grantaire could doodle. 

“Do you miss painting?” 

“You have no idea.” Grantaire sighed. “I miss sitting in my flat in nothing but boxers, a paintbrush in hand and a glass of wine near by. But I don’t really miss being constantly broke and wondering if I’m waisting my life, so hey.” 

“Draw me something?” 

“Pardon?” 

“Draw me something.” Enjolras repeated and stuck his arm out towards Grantaire. “I’m always writing on you, thought you might want to take your revenge.” 

“Uh. Sure.” Grantaire pulled out the pen he always had on him and took Enjolras’s arm into his left hand. It was stupid. It was cliche, it reminded him of something he’d seen in an annoying chick flick with a winy male protagonist. Still Grantaire made his best efforts to draw a little, cartoon Apollo, sitting in his chariot, wearing a toga. Did the gods wear togas? 

“Is that meant to be me?” Enjolras examined the doodle when it was done. 

“It’s Apollo. The god. I may have stolen some of your features for his face.” 

“It’s good.” 

“Thanks. But that’s a little narcissistic isn’t it?” Enjolras looked at him, confused. “I’m kidding, Apollo.” 

“Why do you call me that?”  

Grantaire shrugged. “I’m not the only one.” 

“But I’m pretty sure you started it.” It was true. Grantaire had drunkenly called Enjolras ‘Apollo’ one night, seen how upset it made him and then done it a couple more times before it caught on. Combeferre managed to go a whole year before he too picked up on the nickname, by which point Enjolras had stopped calling people on it. 

“You have striking resemblance to a the sun god. What can I say?” 

“How so?” 

Grantaire laughed. “Are you looking for flattery? Because I’m willing to wax lyric about your godlike demeanour. You just have to ask.” He figured he couldn’t do much worse then he had the night before, in terms of making his infatuation blandly obvious and it wasn’t like Grantaire didn’t constantly compliment Enjolras for the sake of making him mad. 

“No. Of course not. I just don’t think the comparison is justified. For one: I’m not a god. Then there’s the fact that I don’t know much about poetry or music or- what was the other thing?- prophesy?”

“There’s also sun and light?” 

“There’s also sun and light.” 

 

Over the course of the day a couple of people complimented Enjolras on his arm doodle and Grantaire on creating it. Bossuet wanted his own so he did a quick Sisyphus and then Hercules for Bahorel. By the end of the day Grantaire had doodled on almost everyone. 

He’d really missed putting actual effort into his art, if temporary ball pen tattoos could be called art.

After their daily baths a couple of people wanted Grantaire to do something new, Enjolras included. It was good fun and maybe in another laugh he would have considered a career as a tattoo artist. 

Enjolras’s second bit was a big pice that stretched all the way up his forearm and stared his friends dressed as old time-y revolutionaries. A little, curly haired Enjolras stood dead centre with Courfeyrac and Combeferre on either side of him. Grantaire was way at the end (near the elbow), seated on the floor with a wine bottle in his hand. All in all it was a good pice, something that would have looked grate on canvas with actual paints. But that was a fantasy more dangerous then that of Enjolras liking him back. 

“Why are we dressed like that?” 

Grantaire shrugged. “We’re fighting in the french revolution. Although that was a little too successful, wasn’t it? June Rebellion?” 

“You don’t think we’ll be successful?” Enjolras was frowning, but he was also running his finger over the drawing which was a good sign. Good sign of what? Grantaire wasn’t sure. 

“You know me, ever the pessimist.” 

“I’ll just have to prove you wrong then.” Enjolras stated and it sent a kind of chill down Grantaire’s spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like this chapter much. Sorry it's so 'eh'. I promise the next chapter will be of more value. Or at least I'll try my best to make it so.


	17. Billy Joel

The next morning Enjolras had said ‘yes’ again to a cup of tea which Grantaire carried up onto the deck for him before taking a seat on what hat become ‘his side’ of the cockpit (Starboard).

He raised his stupidly yellow, plastic cup and mumbled: “They’re sharing drink they call loneliness, but it’s better then drinking alone.” 

“Pardon?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, and Grantaire rolled his eyes because even that smallest of actions was ridiculously beautiful. 

“It’s Billy Joel.” 

“Piano Man. I know.” Enjolras looked almost offended that Grantaire would assume he didn’t know which song he was referencing. In Grantaire’s defence how was he supposed to know Enjolras knew anything about music? He’s never once mentioned even listening to music. Ever. It was alway just ‘save the world this’ or ‘down with the the patriarchy that’. In fact the day before he'd said he didn't know much about music while comparing himself to Apollo.

“I just-“ Enjolras continued. “Why do you think I’m lonely?” 

“You’re not?” 

“Of course not. I’m surrounded day and night by the people I love most in the world. How you I be lonely?” 

Grantaire sighed before he spoke. Of course this life was more then satisfactory for Enjolras who never seemed to have any human needs what so ever (other then maybe food and, on occasion, sleep). “Don’t get me wrong. I love the meals we all have together, being able to see, talk to, be with Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel, Eponine, you even, for the rest of my days isn’t the worst way to spend my life. But sometimes, well most of the time I miss touch, affection-“ 

“We don’t give you enough affection?” 

“That’s not what I mean.” Grantaire sighed again. This was kind of difficult to talk about, especially with the one person whom he longed for most. “ I’m talking about cuddles, and a good snog and sex and love, Enjolras. Romantic love. Life is kind of lonely without those things.” 

“Oh.” Enjolras looked as though he was seriously contemplating Grantaire’s words, like it wasn’t him that said it but Combeferre. Or Courfeyrac or anyone else really. Anyone that wasn’t Grantaire. 

“I don’t think I’m lonely.” He said finally which made Grantaire laugh a little. 

“You don’t miss sex? Not even a little?” 

Enjolras took a sip from his cup and then stared down into the liquid that was black in the low lighting. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.” He said quietly. But not so quietly that Grantaire didn’t hear. 

“Really?” Grantaire couldn’t believe that no one would be willing to sleep with Enjolras for any reason other then feeling like they weren’t good enough for him. “But you’re so beautiful. I mean some one must have-“ 

“MAYBE I DON’T WANT THE WAY I LOOK TO BE THE ONLY REASON FOR SOMEONE TO WANT TO SLEEP WITH ME.” Enjolras hissed loudly. So loudly intact Grantaire was worried Cosette and Marius (who where asleep under Enjolras) might have been woken. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Grantaire sighed yet again, it was getting ridiculous and he knew it. But he didn’t like making Enjolras mad, not anymore. There just wasn’t any point to it now that Enjolras willingly gave Grantaire his attention. Mildly irritated, sure. Mad, not so much. “Have I ever once implied that the rest of you isn’t as amazing as your curls or jaw or” pause “ eyes?” 

A silence. A silence Grantaire wasn’t too fond of. Then Enjolras spoke: “You’ve always been the first to poke holes into my ideas.” 

“Only because you’re ideas might actually get you killed someday. And the world would be no doubtably a worse place should you end up dead.” 

Another silence followed and Grantaire almost started to worry that he’d given too much away and things would get awkward between them. Almost. 

“I don’t want to.” Enjolras said eventually, leaving Grantaire more then a little confused.

“Don’t want to what?” 

“Have sex.” Enjolras explained a little quietly like he wasn’t sure weather or not he wanted to admit that about himself. “That’s why I never did.” 

“Oh.” Was all Grantaire managed. He couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to not want to have sex. At all. But he also knew that a lot of people couldn’t imagine what it is like to want to have sex with someone of the same gender so he wasn’t doubting that that’s how Enjolras felt. Not doubting but maybe a little disappointed because in that moment the little amount of hope that had been blooming when it came to Enjolras’ feeling for him where crushed into dust. 

“I just- It kind of freaks me out, you know?” 

“Vaginas?” 

“And Penises. I’d just rather not have to see or touch genitalia that isn’t my own.”

“Okay. That’s fair.” Grantaire was usually the one to come out to people and had no clue on how to deal with being the other end of the conversation. Sure he had friends that didn’t exactly fit in the hetero or monogamist boxes, see Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, but they’d never actually talked about what they where, they just where. 

“It used to be much worse.” Enjolras continues. “I mean I still don’t ever want to have sex but I used to not like physical contact at all, not even hugs from my parents or anything. Sleepovers where the worst, especially if I had to share a bed with someone. I ended up staring at the celling all night willing my brain to let me sleep.” 

“I can go back to sleeping in the cockpit if-“ 

“Don’t be silly.” Grantaire was cut of before he could finish his sentence, but he didn’t like the idea of him being the reason Enjolras couldn’t sleep. “Like I said, It’s gotten better. I sleep fine next to you. And, as you might have noticed, I do enjoy a good hug if it’s from the right person. A good cuddle even, if I’m feeling daring.” 

Grantaire’s breath hitched. It sounded almost as though Enjolras was flirting, but Enjolras didn’t flit and definitely not with Grantaire. 

“What changed?” He said a little too quickly with the failed intention of drawing the attention away from himself. 

“There was this guy.” A sudden envy took hold of Grantaire with a painfully tight grip. “I- it’s kind of embarrassing. We never did anything but he slept in my dorm a couple of times and I guess I got used to it.” 

“What happened?” Grantaire is selfish and hoped for a messy ending to the whole thing which left Enjolras disliking the other guy but regretted in immediately when Enjolras said: “I guess he got bored of me. It wasn’t the best time of my life.” 

“I’m sorry.” Not for a second did Grantaire think that it was Enjolras who got hurt, in that, what was it, relationship? Surely it should have been the other guy who left heartbroken and it made Grantaire mad to think that someone could just throw away Enjolras’ affections like that. “What a dick.” 

“It wasn’t his fault.” Enjolras said shaking his head slowly, looking down at his cup in a way that replaced Grantaire’s anger with sadness. Well not replaced it exactly. A bit of his anger clung on and might have been heightened even by the sight of a sad Enjolras. “I couldn’t have asked him to wait for me. I mean, we’d been seeing each other a month and hadn’t kissed yet.” 

Grantaire knew that this was supposed to make him less mad about the undeserving prick that had somehow caught Enjolras’ eye but it only did the opposite. 

“A MONTH? That’s nothing. Wanker!” 

“He probably realised by then that I wasn’t ever going to put out and I can’t really blame him. Sex is important to most people, right?” How he was still defending the guy Grantaire didn’t know. How Enjolras had let anyone treat him this way was another mystery. It just seemed so wrong that someone who was always standing up for those who needed it would let himself be walked all over. 

“Okay, then he’s a stupid wanker. The fact that you don’t want to have sex shouldn’t be an issue. Okay no sex then, that’s fine, that’s what we’ve got hands for. And if it would have taken a year for you to feel comfortable enough to kiss him then he should have been willing to wait that long. You deserve as much. And he clearly didn’t deserve you because if being the object of your affection isn’t enough then he doesn’t know you one bit. Some people would give up there right arm to get half the attention you give your cause and I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be fancied by you, to have that much passion and dedicated devoted to you? I’m not even sure theres a single person on this earth who deserves such a thing. Except for you maybe. But you can hardly fancy yourself.” 

Grantaire had to stop to catch his breath but could have probably gone on for much longer if he’d wanted to. However in that moment the only thing he wanted to do was jump ship and let the cold, dark, depth of the ocean swallow him whole. 

If Enjolras didn’t already know about his hopeless infatuation with him then he surely knew now. How could he not? And the fact that Enjolras wasn’t saying anything made Grantaire think for sure that he’d made a massive mistake, crossed some line he didn’t know was there. 

Unfortunately a Captain never abandons his ship so he didn’t fling himself over the railing but sat there, sat and waited. 

What he was waiting for he wasn’t sure of. For Enjolras to realise suddenly that the feeling was mutual, lean over and kiss him? Well- Yes. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen even if Enjolras had an actual sex drive. Maybe he was waiting for Enjolras to start yelling at him, telling him he was being stupid of selfish or irritating. But he didn’t do that either. 

Instead Enjolras finished his wine, put down his cup and politely informed Grantaire that he was going to bed and would he please wake him for the sunrise? 

“Whatever you want, Apollo.” There was really no more point in pretending so Grantaire poured himself some more wine and refused to look at Enjolras as he descended into the warmth of the boats living quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are many different brands of asexuality so I would just like to point out now that I'm basing Enjolras off of myself in that aspect and I'm sorry if some of what he says about it from here on out doesn't really apply to other asexuals.   
> Also the guy Enjolras talked about in this chapter is very much based on a girl I knew.


	18. Volunteer

A couple of days passed in which Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t talk much. They didn’t talk before bed and Enjolras didn’t stay up with Grantaire anymore, he did still leave tea though which was a good sign. 

Grantaire worried that he had crosses some sort of line and that Enjolras now felt uncomfortable around him and we wished he could take back all the words that had painted the perfect picture of Grantaire’s hopeless crush. 

Enjolras still asked Grantaire to draw on his arm but always tensed up when there skin made contact. Not to mention the hesitation in his voice before he asked. Despite all of that Grantaire did the drawings. 

“We’re going to need to get gas.” Courfeyrac pointed out as Grantaire was adding the last details to what was meant to be Enjolras as high king Peter, from Narnia. 

“It was bout to happen.” He deadpanned. They had tried to use the motor as little as possible to conserve fuel but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. 

Courfeyrac didn’t pay Grantaire any attention and continued: “There’s a marina close by where we can fill them up.” 

“How risky is it?” 

“Apollo, you know we don’t have much of a choice. It’s a risk we will have to take.”

“Fair enough.” 

 

Courfeyrac who’s segment took place after their lunch brake made sure to say: “If only you guys could see what I see. It’s absolutely beautiful here with a cliff face rising up from the water and towards the sky. Much like we shall rise up from the injustice of our land and into freedom.” 

In reality they where no where near any cliffs but they hoped that somewhere in Paris the person in charge of taking them down was listening and sending his men to every cliff in Europe. 

At first it seamed as though their plan had worked because Odysseus was able to fill up her tank with out a problem. Only when they where half way though filling up Prometheus did they encounter trouble. 

‘Only when’ makes it sound as though they had been graciously awaiting troubles arrival. That was not the case. 

“We need to go.” Marius who’d been standing watch said jumping from he pier onto the boat. 

“She’s not full yet.” Grantaire protested. 

“They have guns, R. Big ones.” 

“Okay, yeah. Let’s go.” He removed the nozzle from Prometheus, threw it carelessly onto the pier as Courfeyrac and Enjolras untied her and pushed her off. In that time Cosette and Combeferre hand turned the engine on and put her in gear the second everyone was on bored. After almost a month of sailing together they moved like a well oiled machine, a truly beautiful sight and Grantaire took comfort in knowing his grandfather would have been proud since it was he who’d taught them. 

“It was the police. I think they where stationed there.” 

“They knew we where coming.” Enjolras realised. “How did they know?” No one had an answer, at least not one they wanted to speak out loud. 

 

By the time they’d anchored (in a cove picked out by Eponine) they got the answer to Enjolras’s question. 

“They have people stationed all down the coast.” Eponine explained. “Azelma has an inside man, well woman actually, who has come up with a list of all the places they’re stationed.” 

“We have a spy?” Grantaire said in disbelief. Everyone nodded like it was well established information. “How come I didn’t know about this?” 

“If you’re going to sleep 20:00 you’re going to miss a few things.” Joly teased. 

“Yeah, I get that. But it would be cool if someone bothered to fill me in in the morning, you know?” 

Eponine didn’t have time for Grantaire’s complaints. “The list isn’t everything they’ve managed to get. She has files on us, plans to take us down, pages upon pages of military strategy. Apparently stoping us is a big operation.” 

“That just means they feel threatened by us which they wouldn’t do if our message wasn’t reaching the people. This is good news.” 

“Not if they send a warship after us.” 

“Then we get the papers from Azelma. If we know their plans then we can manoeuvre around them.” 

“How do you propose we do that? It’s not as though any of us just walk into Paris. They probably have wanted posters with our faced on them on every street corner.” Combeferre was right about that, but her was forgetting that there was one amongst them who wasn’t in the police archives. 

“Let me do it.” Grantaire said. 

“Excuse me?” Enjolras asked, looking both irritated and confused. 

“No one’s looking for me, I can go undetected. I can leave before the sun in up, be in Paris by noon, meet Eponine’s sister and drive back in the night. That way the chances of people following me are slimmer. Not that anyone would follow me because like I said: no one’s looking for me.” 

“And how would you get there?” Enjolras sounded annoyed but Combeferre who stood next to him was nodding. 

“By motorbike.” 

“You don’t have a motorbike.” 

“It’s called a rental, Apollo. Get with the times.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Still Grantaire could tell that he was not happy about the proposition. Probably didn’t trust Grantaire with the oh so difficult task of delivery. 

There was a vote, Combeferre’s idea, and everyone agreed to let Grantaire go. Everyone except Enjolras, that is. 

“It’s going to be dangerous. If you get caught-“ 

“I know. I know. I’d be putting Azelma and all of you guys in trouble with the government.” 

“You’d be putting yourself in danger with the government.” Enjolras continued. “You’d be committing treason. That’s punishable by death.” 

“I won’t get caught then.” Enjolras wasn’t convinced. Far from, and Grantaire could tell. 

“Look, I know it’s risky but that’s why I’m perfect for the job. I’m disposable.” 

A couple of people cramped into the small, interior of the boat started to say things like “You’re not.” or “Don’t say that.” But Grantaire wasn’t having it. 

“I am though. It can’t be Enjolras, Combeferre or Courfeyrac. You guys are the heart, mind and sole of the operation. Eponine’s got the connections on land, Jehan comes up with revolutionary masterpieces, Feuilly’s the only one who know’s how to fix things when they break, Joly's out doctor, Bossuet is the fan favourite, Bahorel is the muscle- don’t look at me like that. It’s and important job and you know it- and Musichetta is the communal mum.” 

“What about us?” Marius asked and Grantaire couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Are you kidding. What if one of you two got hurt? The other would have to keep on living on there own. That’s like killing one of the Weasley twins.” 

“Rowling did kill one of the Weasley twins.” Jehan points out. 

“And the other was never able to produce a patrons again. I vote we don’t let that happen Ron and Hermione here.” 

There was a bit of a silence in which Grantaire noticed that Enjolras looked anything but pleased. 

“Please, Apollo. Let me do this.” 

“Why? You don’t believe in what we’re doing.” 

“I don’t need to. I believe in you.” 

“FINE.” Enjolras stormed out. It was the first time he’d seemed actually angry at Grantaire since there first day at sea and Grantaire hated it. It didn’t like making Enjolras mad, not any more. 

“Should I go after him?” He looked to Combeferre for help but it was Courfeyrac who said: “I think you’d better.” 

 

Grantaire found Enjolras sitting on the bow, legs dangling towards the water. 

“You can’t say things like that.” Enjolras didn’t look at him. 

“Like what?” Grantaire sat down, crossing his legs. He would have sat closer but he wasn’t sure Enjolras would approve and he really didn’t want to make the situation any worse then it already was. 

“‘I believe in you?’ What was that?”

“The truth?” Grantaire offered. “I- You- You must know by now how- how I feel for you.” 

Silence. 

“You’re deliberately putting yourself in danger for-”

“Easy, Apollo. You make it sound like I’m doing this for shits and giggles. I’m not. I’m doing this for your cause.” 

“A cause you don’t think will make a difference.” He huffed. 

“I don’t. You’re right. But it’s not relevant what I think.” 

“It is! If they kill you-”

“What?” Grantaire snorted. “You’re worried about me dying for you?”

Enjolras didn’t say anything, nor did he look at Grantaire, he just stared at the water as though he was looking past the surface, seeing the fish that swam below.

“It it makes you feel better I’d be dying for all of you. Even Marius.”

“How can you joke about this?” 

“Because I’m going to be fine. They don’t have my sent and I promise I’ll be really careful.” 

“You better be.” Enjolras warned and Grantaire couldn’t help laughing. It wasn’t funny exactly but thinking about Enjolras caring about his well being perfectly expressed how much had changed within the few weeks that they’d been on the run from the law. 

“I’ll be fine.” 

 

Later that evening Grantaire took the dingy to shore to find a motorcycle rental place. Enjolras had wanted to join but everyone agreed that it was a terrible idea since his hair made him too recognisable. 

Of course there was also his one in a million face but no one seemed to think that was a legitimate reason for Enjolras to say behind. They where all delusional, clearly. 

 

It was 4:00 in the morning when Combeferre woke both Grantaire and Enjolras up. Grantaire, so he could bring him to shoer and Enjolras so he could start his shift. 

“You’ll have to excuse Enjolras.” COmbeferre said while they where seated in the dingy. “He’s just fussing because he cares about you.” 

“Yeah.” Even if it din’t always look it to outsiders, Enjolras was just as passionate about his friends as he was about his country and to everyone surprise Grantaire now counted as a friend.


	19. Recognition of Alice Cooper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS A SPOILER FOR THE 1979 MOVEI 'QUADROPHENIA' IN THIS CHAPTER. (If you're into old movies about rock and roll check it out, it's petty cool and Sting is in it as a side character. It kinda has a 'Rebel with out a cause' meets the WHO feel and back when I was a pretentious pre teen who thought classic rock was the only decent music it was one of my favourites.) And I've decided to give Musichetta Malagasy heritage so yeah that's a thing.
> 
> I also feel like I should comment on so many of les amis being queer in this fic and I would like to point out that I am queer and so are the majority of my friends. I think we find each other, to be hones.

It had been years since Grantaire had been upon a motorcycle. He’d learned the second he was old enough simply because he knew it would piss his mother off but when she’d finally had enough and sold it he couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one. (He also couldn’t afford one.) 

For a while it had been his dream to drive his bike of of the white cliffs of dover, preferably at the age of 27 (that’s when all the cool kids die), and make it real Quadrophenia-esq except for the bit where Jimmy didn’t actually go down with his Vespa. Grantaire would have gone down with his shitty Honda, or he would have stolen a Vespa and then gone over the edge with that. Hadn’t Jimmy used a stolen scoter? 

Grantaire tried not to think about the fact that he hadn’t actually surpassed 27 yet and could still make that adolescent dream a reality. He didn’t like the images his imagination supplied him of his friends crying at his funeral, of Enjolras, not crying (Enjolras didn’t cry) but standing there, dressed in black, sad. 

Enjolras was actually the least heartbreaking to think about. It was much worse when the image of Joly and Bossuet clinging to each other while they sobbed, popped into his mind. Musichetta would stand beside them, solum, a hand resting on Bossuet's shoulder. She’d be the one to give a talk because Joly would cry to much to get a word out. Then Jehan Courfeyrac would speak, then Jehan. 

The cold bite of the early morning air as he sped down country roads, did little to distract Grantaire from his mind. He used to have thoughts about his death all the time, it was basically a constant state of being between his 15th and 23rd year but it had gotten better when he started going to the ABC meeting and left completely once they sailed away. 

The truth of the matter was that Grantaire was no longer a sad, lonely teen who’s grandfather had just died and who’s girlfriends cheated on him. He had friends, friends he loved more then anything in the world and it wasn’t as easy to imagine death when there where people you didn’t want to leave behind. 

Only when the sky started to brighten was Grantaire able to think about something else, anything else. He tried to imagine what he would look like where he in a movie, zooming down small roads and slowing down within towns, dressed in fated jeans and his paint stained hoodie. 

He also tried to imagine riding a motorcycle for days on end because he’d been on it for only about two hours and was already fed up. Ass starting to get soar, arms longing to be in a different position and the desire to go back to sleep Grantaire continued on taking as many side roads as possible. 

 

By noon Grantaire had sung every Alice Cooper song he could think off (okay, so maybe he just sang ‘Poison’ over and over again) in an attempt to keep himself busy. Alice Cooper made him feel cool, especially paired with the motorbike. 

“You don’t want to be singing that.” The waitress at the cafe where Grantaire stopped for lunch, said. “Even under your breath.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Alice Cooper, right? His music is illegal, even in the country. They’ll throw you in jail if they hear you.”

“Jail? For having a song stuck in my head?” 

“If you sing the song that’s stuck in your head, yeah.” 

“That’s insane.” Sure radio stations had been banned from playing certain songs this was a new level of crazy. 

“It’s been like that since-” she looked around then whispered “the ABC.” 

“What’s that?” Grantaire promised to be careful and playing it safe was careful. 

“Have you been living in a cave.” 

“Bit of a hermit.” 

“Hermit’s can have radio’s.” The girl laughed but kept her voice low. “It’s an illegal radio station. They play a lot of banned music and talk about things like homosexuality and race.” 

“For someones who’s been out of touch, what’s the situation like out here with race and the LGBT community?” 

“It’s really bad. Anyone suspected of being gay gets taken in for questioning- that’s a blanket term now, by the way, for everyone who isn’t straight- and they’ve started arresting mixed people.” 

“Mixed people?” 

“Yeah. You know people with a French dad and non French mum or something.” 

“Oh.” Feuilly was mixed. Feuilly’s dad was Polish. That meant that Feuilly wasn’t only a criminal because he was braking the law on a daily basis, he was also a criminal just by being, on a daily basis. “That’s fucked.”

“I know. I thought it couldn’t get any worse when they started deporting people.” 

“Tell me about it. I remember when they tried to send my friend back to Madagascar. She was born and raise here, she has a french passport. Eventually they let her stay, but her parents had to go which is bullshit because they ALSO have french passports.” 

“I knew it. You’re the guys who’s in love with Enjolras.” The waitress exclaimed and Grantaire’s eyes must have gone wide with shock. Really, really wide. 

“What?” 

“You’re friend. The one you where just talking about. It’s Musichetta, right? She talked about her parents as a guest of Feuilly’s show.”

“Uh-?” 

“The song you where singing earlier- Alice Cooper, right?- I recognised it because it was the only song Musichetta let her mystery guest play. And Joly had played it a few times but that’s not important.”

“I have no clue what you’re taking about. Who’d Joly?” Grantaire didn’t sound convincing, not even a little bit, but it was worth a try, right?

“You’re the mystery guy.”

“I’m not the mystery guy.” 

“Yes you are. You’re R.” She’d said that a little louder then Grantaire was comfortable with. The reason he’d volunteered to go on this mission was that no one was meant to recognise him. 

“SHHHH. Fine. I’m R. Let’s not tell the world.” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. You’re right. But you should really be more careful.” 

“I thought I was being careful.” 

“Maybe just don’t talk to people? And definitely don’t sing.” The waitress suggested nodding encouragingly. Grantaire raised his eyebrow at her. He’d been singing so quietly and someone would have had to be listening very carefully to even notice.

Then again the chances of everyone, whether they be civilians or not, being very paranoid and therefore very observant where pretty hight. From what the girl had said it sounded like things had gotten worse in the time that the ABC had taken to the sea which was an insane concept considering they’d only been gone for about a month. A little less then a month, even. 

 

After his too short lunch break Grantaire was back on the bike. He would have hung out a little longer, catted with the waitress who apparently went to secret meeting he’d inspired, but he was still a long way from Paris and had to get there early if he wanted to take a nap before having to make his way back. 

The rest of the ride was long and boring and just generally a massive pain. Yes, Peter Fonda in ‘Easy Rider’ was cool as hell. No, Grantaire no longer wanted to be him, simply because of how much time he spent on the bloody Harley. 

It was nightfall by the time he finally arrived at Azelma’s place where he had dinner with her and Eponine’s little brother, Gavroch before they proceeded to talk about anything incriminating. Azelma wanted to make sure Gavroch was tucked in and asleep before they discussed taking down the government, for his own safety. 

All the stories Grantaire had heard about Gavroch made him believe that it was probably already too late for the boy but he decided it best not to mention that to the girl who was actually more intimidating then Eponine herself which seamed unlikely but was apparently very possible. 

 

Azelma pulled a backpack out from under her bed and handed it to Grantaire. 

“That’s everything we where able to gather.” She explained. 

“It’s heavy.” 

“It’s a lot of papers. I don’t half ass my job.” 

“As someone who always half ass’s my job, I tip my hat to you.” 

Azelma snorted and shook her head at Grantaire but she was smiling so he figured he wasn’t in trouble which was good considering he was trying to find a way to tell her that he intended to go for a pint before taking his too short nap. 

Was it wise to have a beer a couple of hours before attempting to cross the country atop a motorcycle? Don’t make him laugh. When was anything Grantaire ever did wise? That he left to Combeferre who actually seamed to get a kick out of making good calls. So hey, good for him.


	20. This is bad

Azelma had been surprisingly okay with Grantaire popping to the closest pub, although she did give him a maximum time of an hour to spend there. They way they both say it, if Grantaire left around 4 in the morning again be’d be back at the boat by sunset and since it was still pretty early an hour at the pub would easily allow for a solid 7 hours of sleep. 

“You should come with.” 

“I really shouldn’t.” Azelma patted him on the back and then sat down behind her laptop to do some work. 

“Suite yourself.” He said before leaving the flat with just enough money for one pint. If he brought more he might end up drinking more which he wasn’t about to do. Not when the literal safety of his friends relied on him not fucking something up. 

Grantaire took a seat at the bar and flirted with the idea of flirting with the barista, who was ridiculously beautiful, but decided against it. It didn’t feel fair to Enjolras which didn’t make a whole lot of sense since Enjolras didn’t actually have any claim over Grantaire, but he had given off the impression of returning Grantaire’s feeling, even if just a little bit. (It might have been the hours of daydreaming he’d had on the way to Paris but he figured he might indulge in them, at least until he got back to the boat). 

“Hey.” Someone said, taking a seat next to Grantaire. 

“Hey.” He didn’t look up to see who was talking to him. 

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” 

“I doubt it.” He looked up and found himself face to face with a cop. Trying really hard not to give anything away Grantaire looked him up and down and then shrugged: “I got into a bar fight a few years back. You might have been the one to stop it.” 

“No. I don’t think that’s it-”

“There was also a drunk driving incident.” All things that where more excusable then being gay or having friends who stood up for minorities on a daily basis. 

“That’s not it either. But I know where I’ve seen you before. You’re R.” 

“I’m who?” 

“R. That’s your name.” 

“It’s really not.” Grantaire was starting to get nervous. How had they found him? How could they have possibly found him. Unless the girl- the waitress- That little shit. 

“You’re right. It’s Grantaire. You just go by R, don’t you.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Grantaire stood up but the police officer grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him back onto the barstool. 

“Don’t do that. I just want to talk.” 

“Sure you do.” As it turned out situations like this one where much scarier in real life then they where on TV, who would have thought, and Grantaire found himself sweating. 

“We know you, Grantaire. We’ve been doing out research on your little friends and your name came up a few times.

“You don’t have much of a police record, a couple of DUI’s and drunken fist fights, nothing too bad so we figured you where harmless. Until- oh boy, until one of the radio segments was hosted by someone new. Now you didn’t give us your name, smart move, but it wasn’t too difficult to pin the crime to you. Apparently your little friends, don’t have a very large social circle and anyone else somehow connected to them could be easily contacted and proven innocent. You’re the only one that was M.I.A.

“Do you understand how FRUSTRATING my job is? All I want to do is rid the world of it’s scum but people keep running and hiding and disappearing. It’s driving me absolutely crazy. But now, now things are going to change. Now you’re going to help me.” 

“A-am I?” 

“Yes. Because, like I’ve said: I know you. I’ve dug up every scrap of information that there is on you and I learned something interesting. You’re not like your friends, are you? You don’t believe in a better world. You’re a cynic and an alcoholic and now you’ve given up, haven’t you? You decided the pirate life wasn’t for you and you came to Paris looking to start a new life. Well isn’t that right?”

“Uh? Yeah.” Grantaire nodded slowly. That was a lie he could work with, a lie he could possibly even get away with if he played his cards right and got his heart rate under control. 

“But you forgot a small detail when you came up with this plan. You’re still guilty of treason. You know what we do with people who commit treason?” 

He couldn’t have responded if he wanted to. Of course he knew. Best case scenario, he hangs on his own. Worst case scenario all of his friends hang with him. 

“I don’t want to kill you, Grantaire. I really don’t. But I will. I will, unless you corporate with me.” 

“Uh-?” 

“All you have to do is tell me everything you know about the ABC including their current whereabouts and I’ll let you go. Hell, I’ll even pay you for it. Think about it, art supplies are expensive but for a little bit of help I can make sure you have enough money to buy you everything you need, canvas’, paints, your own studio.” 

“And all I need to do it tell you where the ABC are?” 

“And any thing else you know about them.” 

“Okay.” Grantaire was worried that he didn’t sound convincing enough, that he sounded like he was blandly lying. “But I’m going to need some time.” 

“Listen kid-”

“Officer. Please. I don’t know where they are tonight or where they will be tomorrow. But I know that I can get in contact with them and find out where they will be tomorrow. Also you’re- you’re asking me to sell out my friends. It’s a difficult job.” 

“But you can get the information?” 

“I can. And I can give it to you tomorrow morning, at the crack of dawn if you like, but please, please just give me a couple of hours to come to terms with what I’m about to do.” 

“How do I know you wont run?” 

“You don’t. But you said you know me, they you know that the pirate life is not for me and that I am way to much of a coward to die for something honourable. Believe it or not, I quite like not dangling from my neck.”

The police officer laughed. Grantaire didn’t like that at all. “Fair enough. We’ll talk over breakfast then?” 

“Breakfast.” Grantaire agreed. “Uh- Where?” 

“There’s a cafe across the road. We’ll meat there at 9:00. If you don’t show up I will hunt you down personally and see to your death being a painful endeavour.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

“I’m glad to hear it. Let me walk you home.” Saying no would have been too much of a risk so Grantaire forced himself to smile, nodded and then led the officer in the opposite direction of Azelma’s place. He couldn’t exactly go back there and put her in trouble so he just started to walk and hoped to come across a cheap hotel. Eventually they did. 

“This is me.” Grantaire informed, and then added “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” before walking in thought the door and past the front desk as if he actually had a room there. 

He waited about half an hours, sitting on the floor of a hall, trying not to hyperventilate and cry before forcing himself back onto his feet. 

The coast was clear so he made his way back to Azelma’s taking side streets and keeping to the shadows. 

“Azelma, you and Gavroch need to leave. Now. Get out of Paris-”

“Whoa. Grantaire. What are you talking about.” 

“I ran into a cop. He knew who I am and after 9:00 tomorrow he’ll be after me. It’s not safe here.” 

“It’s not safe anywhere. Don’t worry about Gavroch and I, we’ve been doing okay, with fake names and papers, the whole shebang. Right now we need to worry about you. You’ll have to leave a couple of hours sooner then planed-”

“I’ll have to leave right now.” 

“You can’t. You haven’t slept.” 

“It’s that or death.” Grantaire pointed out, picking up the backpack that was on the table. “The ABC is counting on these papers. With out them we are all fucked and maybe I’m not ready to throw away my friends lives over a couple of hours of sleep.” 

“Okay. Okay.” He was already halfway to the door when Azelma put a hand on his shoulder. “But for the love of god, Grantaire, be careful.”

“I will be. I promise.” 

 

If the first trip on the motorcycle had been bad then the second one was hell. Everything hurt (peoples body’s where not meant to stay in one position for that long) and the heavy backpack was weighing down on his shoulders which was uncomfortable at fist and then increasingly painful as time went on. 

Then there was the fatigue. Grantaire liked his sleep, he liked lots of sleep. 8 hours at lest. He wasn’t good at the whole staying awake thing, especially not when he also had to stay focused on something like the road ahead of him. It was almost dawn just passed dawn by the time he got back and the entire night had been completely hellish. 

On shore, sitting against the dingy, was Combeferre waiting to take him back to the boat. 

“You’re early. Very early. 12 hours early.” 

“Long story.” Grantaire groaned. “Why are you waiting for me already?” 

“Enjolras’s idea. Just in case.”


	21. Enjolras makes Grantaire feel two very different emotions in 24 hours

The second Grantaire stepped foot on Prometheus Enjolras pulled him into a tight hug. 

“You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay.” Grantaire confirmed. “And I’ve got the files.” He was so tired he worried he might topple over once Enjolras let go of him, but he didn’t. He managed to stay upright, swaying a little.

“I’ll take those.” Combeferre took the backpack out of Grantaire's hand. “You get some sleep.” 

Nodding, Grantaire made his way below deck, noticing Joly and Jehan both beaming at him. Why where they still up? Already up? Did it matter? Not really. 

Only once he stood in front of his cabin and struggled with the doorknob did he notice that Enjolras had followed him. 

“Let me.” Enjolras opened the door and let Grantaire enter before he closed the door behind them. 

The details of how it happened where blurry but somehow Grantaire found himself laying there with Enjolras sitting over him and playing with his hair. 

“I need to tell you something.” Grantaire yawned. 

“It can wait.” The feel of fingers combing though his tangled, messy curls was relaxing and before Grantaire could say much more he was asleep. 

 

When he woke up Enjolras was seated next to him, but light came in though the small window, letting Grantaire know that it was the morning. 

“What time is it.” 

“14:00” Okay, so not the morning then. 

Prometheus was moving in a way that she only would under sail which meant that his crew had gotten everything done with out him, unless they had the motor on, which they didn’t (Grantaire would have heard it). 

“We’re sailing.” 

“We are.” Enjolras smiled at him. “Turns out I learned a few things from you in those first few days. Not to mention Cosette is incredibly observant and learned just by watching you.” 

“I mean it’s really not that difficult. I didn’t doubt you guys could do it. I just thought you’d wake me-”

“Grantaire, you went to Paris and back in 30 hours. You needed sleep.” 

“I’m not complaining.” The sleep had been very welcomed by Grantaire's body, in fact he wasn’t quite ready to be properly awake yet, which he signified by turning onto his stomach and tucking his hands under his pillow. “I might still be a while.” 

“That’s okay. Take as much time as you need.” Enjolras smiled at him before picking up a book. The Odyssey. Grantaire’s copy. 

“You don’t have anything more important to do then wait for me to be well rested?” Enjolras usually spent his day on deck, reading or writing or chatting with Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Jehan, so the fact that he was now hanging out in there cabin definitely had to do with Grantaire. 

“I want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Oh.” 

“And you mentioned this morning that you needed to tell me something.” 

“Oh.” So it wasn’t for Grantaire’s benefit exactly. Enjolras was there because Grantaire had information and Enjolras cared about there criminal mission. “They found me. In Paris I mean.” 

“Who found you?” Enjolras sounded panicked. 

“A man in a police uniform and a gun on his belt.” 

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

“No. No. I’m fine. He just wanted to talk.” 

“Talk?” 

“Yeah.” Grantaire sighed. He wasn't sure how to tell Enjolras that he was so useless to the rebels even the government knew it. “He wanted to recruit me. He offered me a lot of money and my freedom in exchange for information. Apparently I’m the weak link. The most corruptible or something-”

“You didn’t-?” 

“Of course not.” the fact that Enjolras thought Grantaire could ever betray his friends hurt. A lot. Here he’d thought that he’d somehow managed to prove to Enjolras that we wasn’t just an annoying waist of space but apparently he was wrong. “I gave up my life for you and our friends. I didn’t need to be here, I could have stayed in my flat with my paints and picked up girls at the closes bar until I was old and wrinkly but gave that up join you on these stupid boats where everyone is getting laid except for me and I was actually happy about it because at least I could be with the people I loved most it the world. 

“Do you really think you guys mean that little to me? You think I’m capable of selling you out?” 

“No. You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Yeah. You really shouldn’t have.” 

There was a bit of an awkward silence and Grantaire thought Enjolras would surely get up and leave, but he didn’t. He stayed and he sat and eventually he said: “What did you do? You know when the police talked to you.” 

“I told him that we had a deal and that I’d tell him everything over breakfast. Then I went back to Azelma’s to warn her, got on the bike and drove without stoping until I got back here.” 

“You didn’t get any sleep?” 

“How could I? Any delay would have increased the chances of them following me. I had to get as far away as possible before they noticed I left Paris.” 

“You- thank you.” 

“Like I said: I may not care about your stupid radio show or even believe that it’s making any difference but I would never ever do anything to endanger you or anyone on this sad excuse for a fleet.”

 

“Hey, R.” Combeferre greeted him when he finally emerged from the cabin. “It looks like there’s a file on you, with a picture and everything. You’re lucky they didn’t find you.” 

“Yeah, lucky.” Grantaire snorted and then left it to Enjolras to tell Combeferre about what had happened. He didn’t exactly fancy being doubted again. At least not to his face. 

 

The next morning Enjolras stayed up with Grantaire during his shift. They hadn’t spoken much since Grantaire woke up but the air between them wasn’t uncomfortable or hostile. There had been a lot of eye contact between the two of them and it was getting a little bit ridiculous, not to mention that it was doing all sorts of things to Grantaire’s hope. 

Enjolras defiantly knew that Grantaire liked him, there was no more doubt about it and sure he’d acted uncomfortable at first but then he’d gotten really upset about the idea that Grantaire might be in danger, hugged him when he was okay, and then sat by him while he slept.

Sure there was the bit where Enjolras believed, even if only for a second, that Grantaire had sold them out, but that made sense, anything else would have been too good to be true. 

Laying his head back, Grantaire looked up at the night sky. It was raining ever so slightly but the sky wasn’t cloudy enough to cover the stars. 

“ Aries.” Grantaire muttered to himself while looking up, passed the boom onto the night sky. 

“Pardon?” Enjolras asked from across the cockpit. 

“Oh ah, nothing. It’s just I can see Aries. My grandfather was an Aries.” 

“Wait. You mean the stars?” Enjolras asked, clearly in awe. Since when did he get exited over things like stars? “You can find the star signs? That’s really cool.” 

“Not all of them.” Grantaire wished he could show off his extensive knowledge of the universe but he didn’t have any. That was more Joly’s field. “Just aries and pisces. They’re pretty easy and close to each other, so once I’ve found once it’s simple enough to-“ 

“Show me?” Enjolras asked, suddenly no longer on the other side of the cockpit but right next to Grantaire. So close in fact that when Grantaire turned to look at him he found himself almost touching Enjolras with his nose. 

“Ah. Well. Um. Do you see those five stars there that kind of form a circle?” Grantaire pointed with his finger and Enjolras moved even closer. “That’s-“ struggled inhale “that’s one nooses that wrap around the fish in pisces.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“And that one bright star kind of north-east of the circle-“ There’s no way Enjolras could have known which star Grantaire meant because he was no longer look at the sky. Instead his stare was burning holes into Grantaire’s face which made Grantaire turn to face him for a second then immediately regret it. 

Enjolras was looking at him, really properly looking at him. No glaring or scowling or even giving him that sad pitting look he’d gotten often since they’d started there voyage just looking like he sometimes looked at the page of the book he was reading or the way he looked at Combeferre whenever Combeferre said anything particularly smart. 

The whole thing was too much for Grantaire who panicked, tuned back to the stars as quickly as possible and continued talking: “Yeah well that’s part of the constellation too. And if you follow all of the brighter stars in that direction then it makes up the first half.” 

“Uh-huh.” Enjolras said again, but much more quietly. 

Everyone’s got those moments where they are sitting next to there crush and thinking please ‘kiss me’. Only they never do. And they definitely don’t when they’re beautiful asexual gods. Yet somehow the universe decided, probably for the first time ever, not to be an asshole and Grantaire heard the quiet words: “Can I kiss you?” escape Enjolras’ lips. 

The appropriate response would have been: ‘sure’ or ‘of course you can’ or a cheeky ‘I thought you’d never ask’. But Grantaire was never good at appropriate responses, especially not with his mind in a state of panic. So what he said instead was: “I haven’t brushed my teeth since this morning.” 

Enjolras chuckled and kissed him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so that last bit may be kinda stolen from my life so I really really fucking hope that the guy involved never ever finds this. (I don't think he was a Les Miserables fan tho, which is good.)


	22. Emperors, Popes and Kings

Grantaire took some time to run his thumb back and forth over Enjolras’ bottom lip, while Enjolras just sat there, looking at Grantaire, just looking. 

“Did you feel something when I kissed you?” Enjolras finally asked. 

“Uh. Yeah. Definitely.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Oh.” Grantaire pulled his finger away. He should have known it was too good to be true. Good things didn’t happen to him, they just didn’t. 

“No wait.” Enjolras snatched up Grantaire’s hand and pulled it towards himself, rubbing his thumb across it. “I didn’t mean- I just.” He breathed out. “I like you a lot Grantaire. I just don’t think my body is reacting to things the way it’s meant to.” 

“Yes. We’ve established that.” Grantaire’s voice was airy. He couldn’t quite force himself to sound normal after Enjolras had, out loud, admitted to liking him. A lot. 

“No. I mean at all. I liked kissing you, I did. It was fun and I’d like to do it again sometime if you’d let me, but I didn’t feel anything. My body didn’t react. It didn’t feel like magic.” 

“Oh.” It had defiantly felt like magic to Grantaire and, boy had his body reacted. 

“I just feel like there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Whoa. Apollo. Listen here,” Grantaire pulled Enjolras’ hand over to him, took it in both his own hands and stroked it gently with his thumbs. “There is NOTHING wrong with you. Just like there’s nothing wrong with Joly for loving two people. So your whole body doesn’t shut down when someone touches you a certain way. That’s fine, so what? Really, you should be glad. You know how much of my life is not consumed by the feel of your lips? It’s a bourdon you don’t want. Trust me.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Enjolras said.

“Don’t be. Don’t ever be. Although. If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t protest.” 

“You don’t mind?” Enjolras asked. “You don’t mind that I’ll never feel the same things for you as you do for me? At least not physically?” 

“I really really don’t.” 

Then they where snogging again.

Kissing Enjolras was different from kissing anyone else, not just because it was actual- mind and body sculpted by the gods- Enjolras but also because Enjolras didn’t really react. He kissed back, sure but the rest of his body remained completely still and his hands didn’t get anywhere near Grantaire. 

Not to mention that the whole thing was kind of sloppy and awkward which made sense as this was Enjolras second kiss ever. 

Neither kiss lasted very long either, which was a little sad but really not that bad. It wasn’t something Grantaire was going to complain about and it was probably for the better since- 

“We should probably be keeping a look out.” 

“I was wondering when you would say that.” Grantaire laughed and moved a side a little in case Enjolras wanted to sit next to him. Enjolras didn’t want to sit next to him which, again, was a little sad but not worth getting upset over. Not when Enjolras was his- Wait, what was Enjolras to him? 

“Uh- Sorry. Do you mind me asking what this means?” 

“Well I sort of got the impression that you might fancy me and, assuming I was not wrong, that meant I like you too. Assuming I was wrong, it meant absolutely nothing.” 

“Yeah, no. You where not wrong.” Grantaire smiled, he couldn’t help it. “But uh- I was actually wondering what it meant for us? Are we keeping it casual? Are we full on Pontmercying?” 

“Pontmercying?” 

“Yeah. You know. ‘Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, be my future bride?’” He sang all but the last bit and although he couldn’t see it per se, he could feel Enjolras rolling his eyes. 

“We’ve known each other for years, R. It’s a completely different scenario.”

“I’m aware of that thanks. Seeing as I spent those years pinning.” 

“Wait- But you where always starting fights. I thought this was a recent development.” Grantaire couldn’t help laughing. For someone who was so fond of people Enjolras didn’t know them at all. At least when it came to the longing-for-someone bit of humanity. 

“I started fights so that you’d pay attention to me.” Grantaire admitted. There wasn’t much point in holding back anymore, mainly because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to if he tried. 

“That doesn’t seam like the best way to get someones attention. If you want someone to like you, why make them mad?” 

“Because you know they won’t like you either way. If you can’t get the good attention you’ll settle for the bad.” 

“But I do like you.” Enjolras frowned, like he does when he finds out a rally’s been canceled. 

“You didn’t always.” Grantaire reminds him. “And that’s okay. I’ve made peace with the fact that you used to hate my guts-”

“I didn’t hate you.” 

“Maybe not, but you weren’t particularly fond of, which is fine, I understand where you where coming from. Like you said, making someone mad isn’t the best way to make them like you.” 

“I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name.” Song lyrics. Enjolras didn’t sing them, he just kind of spoke them the way Grantaire had done with the Billy Joel song. 

“Did you just-? Was that- Poison?” 

“Alice Cooper, right?” Enjolras asked and Grantaire had never been so in love. 

“That’s one of my favourite songs.”

“I know.” 

“You know?” 

“Yes. You’re always signing it under your breath.” Enjolras chuckled. “It’s endearing. And not that I know that little bit more about you, I understand why you would like the song.” 

Oh god. That was embracing. Sure it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together and come to the conclusion that ‘Poison’ reminded him very much of Enjolras, but still Grantaire had hoped that Enjolras would be just as oblivious to that as he had been to everything else. 

“Uh- Don’t you have work to do, or something?”

Enjolras smiled fondly at Grantaire but only a moment later, pulled out one of the folders from Azelma and began to read it, giving Grantaire about an hour to figure his mind out before people started to wake up. Enjolras still hadn’t clarified what this meant for the two of them but Grantaire figured he’d just go on like always and see how things developed. 

 

At breakfast Enjolras took charge of the situation and told everyone that Grantaire was his boyfriend. That was good to know. Very good to know. He’d even formulated the sentence as a question giving Grantaire the opportunity to say, which, of course, he didn’t take. 

 

Grantaire spent most of the day, behind the wheel, in a sort of daze. Enjolras, though constantly reading, writing and changing the world, sat close by and would look up from what he was doing every now and then to smile at Grantaire. It was surreal, it was really really nice. 

For the first time in his life Grantaire felt properly good about himself. He wasn’t just some mediocre at best painter with a drinking problem. He was the captain of a pirate ship- well, pirate yacht, but still- and he lived with all of his friends and his- his boyfriend. 

“Auf den Meeren sind wir ewig, frei und unbeugsam, sind wir Kaiser, Papst und König aber niemals Bettelmann.” 

“Pardon?” Enjolras asked looking up at him, an act so simple and yet so very capable of completely ruining Grantaire. 

“Ah- yes. Sorry. It’s a song- a German song.” 

“You speak German? Why?” 

“Why does Feuilly speak Polish?” 

“Feuilly IS Polish.” Enjolras said as though that was the argument to shut down all arguments. How perfectly foolish of him. 

“No. Feuilly’s father was Polish. The father he never knew, may I add.” 

“He still lived in Poland for a good chunk of his life. You’re not going to tell me you lived in Germany, are you?” 

Grantaire laughed. “No. I’ve never even been to Germany. I took German in high school.” 

“Really? How come?” 

“I wanted to read literature in its original language and they didn’t offer Greek which would have been my first choice and I figured German literature had more to offer then Spanish literature.” Enjolras was looking at him in awe, which was very dangerous and had the potential to get them killed (luckily there where no shallow spots close by for Grantaire to strand them on accidentally). “Not to mention I wanted to listen to Rammstein and know what was going on.” 

“Of course you did.” 

 

That night Enjolras actually went to bed at the same time as Grantaire and the two of them spent some time, laying on there sides, looking at each other. Grantaire had already memories the other mans face, or so he thought he had, but having been given permission to properly look at Enjolras he noticed details, he’d missed before. 

“Is cuddling okay? Or should I stay as far away as I usually do?”

“Maybe we can work up to it?” Enjolras suggested. “Maybe you can just hold my hand for now?” 

“I can do that.” Grantaire smiled to himself as he reached for Enjolras’ hand in the dark and intertwined there fingers. This he could get used to. 

Tired and about to fall asleep Grantaire started to laugh. Not because anything was funny, but because everything was good. So good that smiling didn’t cut it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German song is Aussatz by medieval rock band 'Cultos Ferox'. And the lyrics Grantaire spoke translate to: On the seas we are eternal, free and unrestrained. We are emperors, popes and kings, but never beggars.


	23. Taxes?

The next morning Enjolras decided to wake Grantaire up with a kiss on the forehead. 

“Waking up beside you, I’m a loaded gun. And I can’t get enough of you. The pedals down, my eyes are closed. No control.” Grantaire mumbled. 

“I don’t know this one.” 

“It’s One Direction.” 

“Really?” 

“Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not.” Enjolras laughed. “Now come on, there’s a cup of tea waiting for you on deck.” 

 

Their relationship over the next couple of days was surprisingly similar to the way it had been since Enjolras had started staying up with him. Grantaire would start the day with a cup of tea while Enjolras worked, sometimes they would talk, about each other, about their friends and (most of all) about staying out of the reach of the government, but the talking really didn’t take up much of there time. 

They would set sail, Grantaire would man the wheel, most of the time, and Enjolras would continue working. Still he always sat close to Grantaire and looked up to smile at him periodically which was nice. Really nice. 

The main difference in their routine took place after dinner, when both of them would retreat into their cabin and spend some time talking and holding each other. It hadn’t taken too long to work up to cuddles, but it was still a short periods of time kind of thing rather then a ‘let me just exist in your presence forever’ kind of thing. 

Grantaire suspected that this had to do with Enjolras getting up to do more work once Grantaire had fallen asleep, which was just so typically Enjolras. 

 

One night, (after a particularly strenuous day) they where lying close, facing each other. 

“So this asexuality thing. What does it entail?” Grantaire let his fingers trace Enjolras’ collar bone. At least he did until Enjolras moved away from him suddenly. 

“You can’t just try to talk me into-“ 

“Whoa. Apollo. Easy.” Grantaire recognised the tone Enjolras was using, it was the same one he used whenever he was about to get really upset over something, it was the moment in which he was still trying to remain calm before blowing up. “I know you’re not going to have sex with me. I’m not trying to change that.” 

“You’re not?” 

“No. I’m just- curious. I want to understand you better.” At that Enjolras moved back to where he was before, nice and close. Grantaire amused that meant he was allowed to go back to his earlier caresses but figured he’d ask anyway: “Can I?” 

“You MAY.” What a passive aggressive way to correct someones grammar. Grantaire thought he would surely hate Enjolras if we wasn’t so busy loving him. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Uh-? I’m not sure. Do you wank?” 

“If I say ‘yes’ will you have a wank to the idea of me touching myself?” It was obvious by his tone that that was not something Enjolras wanted. And Grantaire could respect that. 

“I promise I’ll try exceptionally hard not to.” 

Enjolras sighed but said: “Yes. I do. The biology still works. It’s my mind where the disconnect is.” 

“You say that like it’s a mental illness or something.” Grantaire frowned. He’d moved his hand up to Enjolras’s cheek and was tracing his jawline with his thumb. 

“Sometimes it feels like it is. I know that it’s not my body that’s the problem. I mean, it feels good when I touch myself which is what happens, right? Most people do, that’s how our bodies are meant to work. But most people pair this good feeling with someone else in there mind. Yes? I’m pretty sure I’ve reached climax thinking about taxes.” 

“Taxes?”

“Not because I feel aroused by the thought of taxes or anything. That’s the thing, though, I don’t feel aroused by the thought of anything, so it doesn’t matter what I think about so I might as well worry about the economy.” 

Grantaire laughed, just a little bit, a little laugh. “I know you think there’s something wrong with you, but I disagree. I think it’s endearing and amazing and so very Enjolras of you to think about bettering the world even in the moments that most people are reduced to nothing but animal instinct. I sort of love you for it.” 

“You love me?” 

“I do. Probably have done for a while and just never realised.” 

“Oh.” Enjolras looked uncomfortable and refused to look Grantaire in the eye. 

“I’m not expecting you to say it back-”

“I want to.” 

“You do?” He hoped he didn’t sound too surprised. 

“Yes. But I’m not there yet.” 

“Thats okay.” Grantaire chuckled. “In case I haven’t made it obvious yet: I’m willing to wait for you.” 

Enjolras gave him a small smile but some form of miscommunication must have taken place between his facial features because his eyes did not look happy. Quite the opposite actually. 

“You’re sad. Why are you sad?” 

“Emmanuel- the guy I told you about- I wasn’t ready to say it back to him either. But I was working towards it and I told him I was but he-”

“Got impatient?” Enjolras nodded. “He told you he loved you and then left.” Again a nod. “Okay. Okay. Look. I’m going to kiss you now. Stop me if you don’t want me to.” Enjolras didn’t move so Grantaire leaned forward and gave him one long kiss on the lips. It wasn’t a snog, just a kiss, but he tried to somehow, somehow show Enjolras everything he meant to him though it. 

When he pulled back a single tear was slipping down Enjolras’s cheek and Grantaire whipped it away with his thumb. “I’m going to say it properly now: I love you. I love you and I don’t care how long it take for you to feel the same way, I don’t care if you never feel the same way. I’m probably going to regret saying this but I don’t even if someday you don’t want to be together anymore. Sure it will break my heart but I’ll never stop being your friend and I’ll alway be there to shoot down your ideologies.”

Enjolras smiled, properly smiled. This time around his eyes got the memo. “I do.”

“Do what?” 

“Want to be with you, for a long time hopefully.” 

“That’s fantastic news.” Grantaire beamed and leaned in to kiss one once more. Again it was meant to only be a kiss, with the intention of somehow letting Enjolras feel his love though osmosis. Enjolras however had other ideas and the kiss soon turned full on snog. 

It wasn’t like the other times. Enjolras was much more in control this time, not just letting Grantaire lead, and his hands, oh his hands, where up in Grantaire’s hair and then on the back of his neck and back in his hair again. Again, it didn’t last particularly long which was probably for the best because Grantaire wasn’t sure how much of that he could have taken before he was completely hot and bothered, and would have to excuse himself and leave for a wank. 

“You should go to sleep.” Enjolras breathed against his lips. 

“I should.” 

“You should.” And then Enjolras leaned in to kiss him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So the last three lines and the bit about the taxes are both stolen from my life which is probably too much information, but hey, there you go.


	24. A whole bunch of weird

“Marius and I need to go to England.” Cosette announced at dinner one day, taking everyone by surprise. “Tonight if possible.” 

“What brought this on?” Combeferre said, concerned. Enjolras on the other hand just looked irritated. 

“News from her father.” Marius said which made no sense since her father was dead. He’d been executed, so unless he was going to talk to them thought the vail, which just so happened to be in England then the situation just didn’t make sense. 

Eponine must have agreed because she stepped up to explain. “Azelma got a call from someone who claims to have known Cosette’s dad and also claims to have something of his which Cosette should go and pick up.” 

“If that doesn’t sound dodgy-” Grantaire mutters to himself while both Bossuet and Joly shake there heads vigorously. 

“You don’t think that sounds too good to be true?” Enjolras pointed out and it was pretty clear that everyone felt the same way. 

“I don’t care if it is. If there’s any chance this is an actual link to my father then I need to go.” 

“Okay.” Enjolras wasn’t please. “What about Marius?” 

“I can’t let he go alone. What if something happens?” 

“Okay. Fine.” 

“Enjolras-” Both Cosette and Combeferre said but Enjolras wasn’t having it. “Look if they want to do this, then who are we to stop them.” He stood up and stormed out onto the deck much like he had done when Grantaire had offered to go to Paris. The only difference: This time it was raining. 

“Should I go after him?” Grantaire turned to Combeferre. 

“I think you’d better.” 

 

Enjolras was sitting in the same place he was last time, except that now he was soaking wet. The rain was only just starting to seep though Grantaire’s hoodie an it was already colder then he liked. 

“If you get sick, Joly is going have a fit.” 

“Same goes for you.” 

“Yes. But I’m stubborn and unreasonable and a little self destructive and we both know I can’t be talked out of moping in the rain.” 

“I’m not moping.” 

“Yes, you are.” Grantaire took a seat next to him and regretted it when he realised how wet his ass was. “And I’m going to sit here with you until you’re ready to come below deck with me, get dry, get in the sleeping bag and warm up.” 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“There’s only one sleeping bag.” 

“That’s fine.” Grantaire shrugged. “I’ll just wrap myself up in both of our blankets.” 

“Or you could- we could- share the sleeping bag?” 

“Okay. Now you have to come below deck with me.” Grantaire nudged Enjolras a little and then added: “I’ll even let you rant for hour about how this is a bad idea. And how they shouldn't let there emotions trick them into making stupid choices.” 

“Deal.” 

 

Once in there cabin they changed into dry clothes (at that point Grantaire had just learned to internally deal with Enjolras’ naked body) and got under the sleeping bag, pressed together, nice and close. 

They talked about Marius and Cosette and how there emotions where going to get them killed. Well Enjolras did most of the talking, while Grantaire slowly drifted of to sleep, pressed snug against his boyfriends who’s hand was in his hair. 

 

“Grantaire. Wake up.” Enjolras was whispering into his ear. 

“Huh. Is it time?” 

“Not quite yet. But Cosette and Marius are leaving I thought you might want to say goodbye.” 

“Oh right. Okay.” He forced himself up and followed Enjolras out onto the deck. Everyone was there, everyone except fro Combeferre who was doing his early morning radio segment. 

“Is that- the Beatles?” 

“It is.” Eponine confirmed. “Today we’re talking about John Lennon and how he would have stood up fro the people, where he still alive. 

“Uh. Okay?” 

Eponine and Courfeyrac got in the dingy with Marius and Cosette, after everyone said there goodbyes which Grantaire found suspicious. Sure they needed one other person to bring the dingy back and it made sense that it would Courfeyrac since him and Marius where close, but that didn’t explain why Eponine was there. He made a mental note to warn her about leading Combeferre on if she still had feelings for Marius. It was’t really fair to either of them. 

 

“They’ve been gone a while. Should we be worried?” Grantaire asked Enjolras who was seated next to him in the Odysseus cockpit. Neither was able to fall back asleep so they decided to enjoy the music that Combeferre way playing until it was time for there shifts. It was safe to assume that Enjolras hadn’t slept at all but when asked about it he’d just shrugged like it was nothing, and Grantaire knew the only time Enjolras would actually listen to him about sleeping was when he was so exhausted he didn’t have the energy to argue. 

“I’m sure they are fine.” 

“I’m sure they’re fine too.” Grantaire sighed. Should he tell Enjolras about his concerns? That’s what boyfriends where for, right? “ I’m just a little worried about Combeferre. But Courfeyrac wouldn’t let anything happen, right?” 

“Combeferre is below deck. He’s fine?” 

“I mean, sure, but you can’t help but wonder why Eponine was so intent on joining the dingy that took Marius away.” 

“You lost me.” Enjolras said and Grantaire had to force himself not pinch the bridge of his nose. How did all this stuff go unnoticed by Enjolras. How did he miss everything? 

“Eponine used to have the biggest crush on Marius-”

“She did?” 

“Jesus christ. Yes. She did. It was bad. Really bad and well recently I thought it had gone way, because of her thing with Ferre, you know?” 

“She has a thing with Ferre?” Grantaire’s eyes must have gone wide, they must have. Anything else wouldn’t have made sense because, okay sure, Enjolras is too caught up in saving the world to notice if other people have crushes but Combeferre was his best friend for crying out loud. Did they not talk about this sort of thing? Ever? 

“Yes. I think they’ve been sleeping with each other longer then we’ve been together. In fact I’m pretty sure.” He kept his voice down because he didn’t want Combeferre’s listeners to hear them (he also really didn’t want Combeferre to hear them) but he was sure that had they been anywhere else he would have ended up groaning loudly in frustration. 

“And now I’m worried that Eponine might still have feelings for Marius because that simply wouldn’t be fair to Combeferre” And then (because he was a child) he laughed and said: “Fair to Combeferre.” 

“Eponine wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.” Enjolras said ignoring Grantaire’s poetic abilities. “Right? Do I need to have the if you hurt my best friend talk with her?” 

“Uh-? No.” Grantaire squinted at him. He didn’t seam like the type to even know that such a thing was common. Unless- “Oh god. Did she give you the ‘if you hurt my best friend’ talk?” 

“Her and Joly and little bit of Bossuet.” 

“Oh god. Sorry.” Grantaire groaned. “Where was I when this happened?” 

“Sleeping.” 

“Yeah, okay. That makes sense.” 

 

Another half an hour passed and Grantaire was moving from ‘concerned Eponine might do something she regrets’ to ‘shit, have my friends been kidnaped?’ and was about to say something about it to Enjolras when below deck Combeferre decided to play ‘Don’t let me down.’

“How is this illegal?” Grantaire asked. “This song I mean. How is it illegal. It’s not rude in any way, at all.”

“I don’t think it is. I just think Combeferre wanted to play Beatles songs to mach his John Lennon as a freedom fighter theme.” 

“Well, it’s a good song.” 

“It is.” Enjolras agreed leaning in to Grantaire. “It’s one of my favourites.” 

“Is it?” He took the opportunity to lean his forehead against Grantaire’s. To prove his point Enjolras started singing along quietly and it was amazing. No, he didn’t have the voice of an angel, but he didn’t sound bad either. He sounded like a regular bloke singing along to a song on the radio, and despite the fact that Grantaire didn’t really want a ‘normal’ life he couldn’t help but smile at how completely mundane that was. (Kind of like that fantasy he’d had about Combeferre and his wife in the white picket fenced house.) 

Enjolras suddenly stopped singing, pulled back to look at Grantaire, took a deep breath and then spoke the lyrics: “I’m in love for the first time. Don’t you know it’s gonna last. It’s a love that-”

Somewhere in the distance a gun was fired Grantaire’s eyes felt as though they where being pulled int he direction the noise had come from.


	25. The death of Grantaire's momentary happiness

By the time Grantaire could see the dingy on the horizon, Enjolras had woken everyone, that had gone back to sleep, back up. He had hoped that seeing the dingy, with his friends on it would subdue the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong. Unfortunately no such thing happened. In fact Grantaire could help but worry even more when he saw, what looked like Courfeyrac’s lone silhouette against the dark blue sky. 

“Where’s Eponine?” Someone asked. Joly, he thinks. And it was a good question. Where was Eponine? Why wasn’t she with Courfeyrac? 

Grantaire could feel his heart beating in his chest and it felt as though all the oxygen had disappeared from around him. This had happened to him before, when he was younger, before he was part of the ABC and despite the fact that he hated ever second he knew that Joly was feeling much worse.

Musichetta was holding on to both of Joly’s shoulders and and asking him to breath. “Babe, look at me. Okay. Inhale, exhale. I’ve got you.” Bossuet was rubbing in back comfortingly but Grantaire could tell that he too was worried. 

As the dingy got closer they where able to make out more details. Details that just further supplied fear for there friend. In front of Courfeyrac there was, what looked like a lump in the dingy. Eponine? Possibly. It was too dark to know for sure. 

Combeferre was still below deck, continuing the last radio show of the day, and Grantaire hoped, hoped with everything he had, that it would all be fine by the time Combeferre decided to join his friends on deck. 

If Eponine was hurt of ill or anything like that then Joly could have a look at her and fix things up enough for it to be bearable for Combeferre and for the rest of them to get some peace of mind. 

The dingy was less then two meters away before it was confirmed that the lump was Eponine. Grantaire’s breath hitched as he saw the motionless body of one of his best friends. If she was hurt, which she almost definitely was, then it wasn’t a superficial injury. This was bad, there was no longer any doubt about it. 

Enjolras asked if Grantaire was okay, but Grantaire was barley aware of that, in fact he wasn’t even sure it really happened. For all he knew it could have been his subconscious trying to calm him. 

“Eponine is hurt.” He whispered as Jehan and Bahorel helped Courfeyrac and the unconscious body of Eponine out of the dingy. “We need to help her.” 

“Oh, Grantaire.” Enjolras’s voice was shaky. That didn’t happen. That never happened. Maybe Grantaire was dreaming? Maybe this was all a nightmare. That made sense, right? “I’m afraid she’s passes being helped. 

Bahorel was carrying Eponine, holding her close, tears streaming down his face. Next to him Courfeyrac stood, shaking slightly. That’s when Grantaire noticed the blood. Courfeyrac was covered in it, Bahorel’s clothes weren’t clean of it wither but mostly it stained Eponine's’ shirt, heaviest around her chest. 

“What happened?” Enjolras demanded. Grantaire tried as best as he could to hold back the tears. Combeferre was still below deck and didn’t know yet. 

“There where people waiting for us.” Courfeyrac explained. They shot at Marius and she jumped in the way.”

“Who shot at whom?” It was Combeferre, he sounded worried but still unaware of the real tragedy. Grantaire noticed the exact moment Combeferre's facial expression changed from concerned to crushed and it broke his heart. 

Everything was wrong. Combeferre didn’t cry, he looked sad, so so sad, but he didn’t cry. Grantaire did though, and so did Joly, Musichetta and Bossuet. Jehan was out of sight and somewhere from not to far came the soft hum of a motor. 

“I know this is t-terrible. A-and we all need time to g-g-grief” Courfeyrac was bent over, holding on to his own knees for support. “But we need to leave. Now.” 

“He’s right.” Combeferre agreed. “We’ll put Eponine in her cabin and worry about her later.” 

“Did they follow you?” Enjolras asked and Courfeyrac nodded frantically. It was amazing how the three of them where able to keep there calm, even in a moment like this. Especially Combeferre. They all acted like this was one of those minor inconveniences they’d encountered at rallies and protests, minds working to find a way out of harms way (too fucking late for that) but the expressions they wore where different. They weren’t angry and hungry for justice, they all looked sad and devastated and like they’d never be happy again. 

“I’ll get the anchor.” Bahorel stated before rushing towards the bow. The anchor was motorised which meant they had no control over how quickly it would rise so it was wise to get started right away. Though Grantaire doubted even that would be enough. 

“There’s a boat coming our way.” He noted out loud. Not too far from shore, but far enough that they it was too close to their boats, was a motor boat coming towards them a pace that wasn’t fast exactly but too fast at the same time. The sound of gunfire came from the boat. Once. Twice. Three times. And then no more. Like they where intentionally trying to frighten the ABC. And hell, it was working. 

And then Grantaire spotted something else. A small something getting closet and closer to the enemy boat. Jehan was out on the dingy, speeding away from Prometheus and Odysseus, drawing the police boats fire away. It must have been Jehan, no one else had hair like that, and when Grantaire looked around he noted that there was only one person missing, one person who must have seen the motor boat before the rest of them did and decided to take the dingy where no one was looking.

It was a distraction that they needed if they where going to raise the anchor and flea but it was also Jehan’s inevitable doom. 

No matter what way Grantaire looked at the situation, it ended badly. Jehan was already so far away that he wouldn’t be able to make it back by the time the anchor was up, not that that would make a difference either way since the anchor still had such a way to go that the motorboat would surely get to them first. Even with a lengthy distraction. 

The outboard motor on the dingy must have run out of fuel because it came to a sudden stop, almost knocking Jehan overboard. He stood up, despite the waves and Grantaire heard him yell something, though couldn’t make out what, before he heard the gunshot and watched Jehan’s body topple over, hitting the water with a splash. 

It wasn’t fair, Grantaire thought with tears stinging his eyes. This kind of thing didn’t happen in real life, that’s what books and movies where for. To make it worse, the anchor wasn’t even close to being up yet. Jehan had died in vain. 

“Untie Prometheus and go.” Musichetta ordered. “All of you.” 

“Fuck no.” Joly almost sobbed. 

“I’ll stay then.” It was Bahorel. Again someone protested. Grantaire wanted to have the courage to offer to be the one who stayed, offer to give his life to protect his friends and then find a way to force them when they tried to stop him, but he wasn’t like Jehan. He wasn’t brave, he didn’t want to die. Not alone. 

“No one is staying behind.” Enjolras’s voice was calm, collected and yet a little sad, regretful even. “If we die then we die together.” 

“We could all leave-” Who said it? Grantaire wasn’t sure. It might have been him and he wouldn’t know. 

“Leave if you wish it. But I’m staying here. I will fight.” 

“We don’t have any weapons.” Feuilly argued. “You’ll die. But of course, that’s your intention isn’t it.” 

Enjolras didn’t say anything and it became clear that, yes, that was his intention. He was okay dying here and now even if his death made absolutely no difference. 

“Then I’m staying with you.” 

“You don’t have to. None of you have to do this.” 

“Yes, we do.” Combeferre said and grasped Enjolras’s shoulder. “If our deaths can buy Cosette and Marius some time then they might live and if they live then so does the ABC.” 

“He’s right.” Courfeyrac added. “The police came after Eponine and I rather then following Marius and Cosette.” 

‘Unless of course they are heading straight for a trap.’ Grantaire thought but decided it was best not to say that out loud. Not when everyone was standing up straight and turning to face the boat that was getting very close, frighteningly close. This was happening. They where facing death head on, it was real. Grantaire should have known his happiness was too good to last more then a week. He couldn’t, however, have known that it was going to be taken away from him so monumentally.


	26. The blood of angry men

The sun was rising as his friends where being sot around him. It was almost poetic really, the way the reds, oranges and pinks of the sky reflected the almost literal blood back that took place atop Prometheus and Odysseus. 

Not only that but Prometheus had housed Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac, the heart sole and mind of the operation, the fire the fuelled this failed revolution. And here they where, the government’s people punishing the boat for giving that fire to the people. 

 

Combeferre who had disappeared below deck momentarily, to lay Eponine’s body down in her cabin had returned to help Grantaire up, after he’d been shot twice in the leg. 

“Thanks.” Grantaire panted, trying to ignore the pain but then was faced with a hurt much, much worse when he heard the gun go off again and Combeferre collapsed at his side. 

In a stare of panic Grantaire somehow managed to avoid a shot to the chest but received another one in his arm. 

He wasn’t sure how it happened, and he wasn’t sure how to amend it, but amongst everything that was going on Grantaire managed to loose sight of Enjolras. He was able to keep track of everyone else. He could see Bossuet slamming his fist in to one of the officers, hear Joly’s rapid breathing mixed with cries and screams, he could feel Courfeyrac griping at his body while he cried over Combeferre. But Enjolras, his Enjolras, was lost to him. 

 

There where screams and the impossibly loud sound of the gunshots and the sound of blood rushing in his ears. There where quick movements, and jerky reactions and the boats continued to rock back and forth as they normally would. There where tears on his cheeks and blood on his clothes and pain in his limbs. And all Grantaire wanted was for it all to be over. 

The bullets he’d received himself (which where unfortunately not anywhere that would kill him instantly) caused for his own blood to mingles with the rest of the red stains that tainted the boats, he realised, he had learned to love. Grantaire was forced to realise that Enjolras had been right all along. There was no lasting beauty, there couldn’t be no beauty. Not when so many people actively tried to stomp it out. But Grantaire had been wright about one thing, and that was the fact that there was no fighting against the people who tried so hard to eliminate all that was good in the world. Because they succeeded in doing so. They always succeeded. 

Here and now they had killed, destroyed, ruined the friends of the ABC, the most beautiful thing that the world had had to offer. Shamelessly and with out hesitation murdered a group that cared so much about the world, that loved so whole heartedly. And though it was over Grantaire was glad that he had witnessed it while it lasted, like a sunrise, that could only linger for so long before the harsh day illuminated it. 

And maybe, like the sunrise, another group of friends would form some day, trying to change the world for the better but Grantaire pitted them for surely too would be destined to a painful end. 

As quickly as it started it was over, the police boat leaving, not bothering with the corpses they where leaving behind. Only three remained. Grantaire, soaked in blood and pain, Musichetta, and Enjolras, who Grantaire had only gotten a glimpse of, clothes died red, hair wet with sweat and blood, before he fell over, slipping out of sight. 

“No. NO! NO.” Musichetta was sobbing over Joly’s and Bossuet’s bodies. Her cries started as a whisper and then got louder and louder until she was screaming to the heavens, a screech so loud it would have hurt Grantaire to hear had he not been slightly defend from the sound of the guns. 

Why they’d let her live, was a mystery. They didn’t even take her in for questioning or anything, they just left her, standing over the dead bodies of all of her friends and both of the men she loved. 

Grantaire would have stopped to comfort her but he didn’t have much left in him, he could almost feel his life draining out thought the bullet wounds, and he had to get to Enjolras. He HAD to. 

Enjolras was sitting in the cockpit of Prometheus, propped up against the side walls, clutching his side and Grantaire used up the very last of his efforts to make sure that he collapsed right next to his still beautiful leader. 

“How many?” Enjolras asked. 

“Four. You?” 

“Eight.” 

“Eight.” Grantaire repeated. He couldn’t imagine being shot eight times and still being alive. “That’s kind of badass. 

“We got pretty lucky.” Enjolras deadpanned. 

“Lucky yeah. Now we just get to bleed to death.” Talking was getting progressively more difficult and Enjolras’ deep and shaky breaths mirrored Grantaire’s own. 

“But I think you’re right. We might have actually made it though this if Joly-” where alive to fix us up. The second part of the sentence went unsaid. Grantaire didn’t have the heart. Joly had been one of his best mates. He’d known him and Bossuet the longest, before they’d even met Musichetta and realised that they’d had feeling for each other, and now both of them where dead, leaving Musichetta behind. 

“They Fred Weasleyed her.” Tears fell from Grantaire’s eyes, and not for his own pain. He was going to die, he wasn’t ready to die, not even a little bit. More so he wasn’t ready for Enjolras to die, still he knew that his fate was merciful and that it was Marius, Cosette and Musichetta (poor Musichetta) who had it worse. So much worse. Death was after all hardest on those who where still living. 

“What?” Enjolras croaked and the way his voice struggled to get the singular word out made Grantaire cry even more. 

“Nothing. It’s- It’s not important.” In that moment he couldn’t afford to care about anything else, not when he had a minute, if that, left with Enjolras, his Apollo, who by some miracle had loved him back. 

Grantaire nudged Enjolras’ hand with his own and asked: “Can I?” 

“You may.” Enjolras breathed before he intertwined there fingers. That was the last thing Grantaire was aware of.


	27. Epilogue

A couple of years later and Musichetta was working as a bartender in what had once been the cultural capital of the basque country. She liked it there, it was cold and wet and nothing like the south of France which helped her repress the memories of what had been the best time of her life. Not that she didn’t still cry herself to sleep and then wake up screaming a couple hours later. But she found that it wasn’t as bad in the day as it had been when she’d tried to settle down in France. 

The city was located at the sea which was almost reason enough for Musichetta to find some place else but she eventually learned not to flinch every time she saw the water, in fact she started to take comfort in it, taking daily walks along the beach looking out, not really sure what she was searching for. Identical ghost ships maybe? 

She knew the boat’s they had lived on would never be seen by her again, not in there physical form, because she had burned them, set them on fire with all of her friends on them and then jumped into the water to swim towards the shore. She could have stayed, burned with them, or let herself serum to fatigue and drowned but she was stronger then that. She wasn’t going to let the people, who had killed her friends and then left the to live out her days broken, win, not completely. Some nights, when she’d had a particularly bad nightmare and feared what might happen if she went back to sleep, Musichetta wondered if what she had done had been fair. They’d never talked about what they wanted to be done with the bodies, at least not as a group and she knew for a fact that Bossuet, at least, had talked about being buried next to Musichetta and Joly. Still she always came to the conclusion that there was nothing more she could have done. 

Did her friends deserve hero’s funerals? Yes. Did they deserve to be swallowed by the waves, every trace of them erased from the earth, destined to be forgotten? No. But there was little she could have done that wouldn’t have ended in her death as well. Considering the circumstances she thought her friends would have been okay with what she had to do. In the end her only regret was not being able to give Jehan the same Viking funeral she’d given the others. 

 

At the pub in which she worked Musichetta met a girl. Sophia. Her head was shaved and her eyes where the same colour as Joly’s had been. Together they served beer and tapas, wine and tapas sometimes. They became fast friends and then roommates who shared nearly everything, even a few drunken kisses. But Musichetta refused to let it go any further then that, partially out of fear of being killed in some ally somewhere in what used to be called a hate crime but was not considered pest control, but mainly because she hadn’t yet gotten over the men she’d loved before, and possibly never would. 

Musichetta must have been difficult to live with, keeping secrets, waking up in the middle of the night screaming, regularly suffering panic attacks and sometimes locking herself away for multiple days at a time but Sophia stuck with her though it all. She even held Musichetta’s hand while she got the ‘ABC’ tattoo to cover the scar left by the one bullet that hadn’t missed her on that day so long ago. 

It was almost the three year anniversary of the tragedy in her life when Marius and Cosette found her. 

“You’ve made a nice little life here for yourself.” Cosette said, sitting on Musichetta and Sophia’s couch. “I almost feel bad about what we’re hear to ask you.” 

“Just spit it out. How bad can it be?” 

Cosette explained that her and Marius had spent the last three years recruiting there former listeners, using the death of there friends as inspiration. 

“Recruiting for what?” 

“A revolution. We’ve come to find you because we need a leader.” 

“We had a leader.” Musichetta reminded them. “He’s dead. The new leader will surely suffer a similar fate.” 

“Chetta, we’ve got over 500 people waiting to follow you.” 

It took some convincing but eventually Musichetta agreed to join them back to Paris where Azelma and Gavroch would be waiting along side all the people that where willing to stand up and fight. 

“This might end in death.” 

“A fact we’ve know since the day we stepped onto those boats.”


End file.
